All About Us
by Ashlee Pond
Summary: ."No, Potter, not in a thousand years." "I must persist -" "Persist away, but my answer isn't going to change." I didn't expect him to take my refusal to go to the ball with him as a challenge, but here we are, 6 days, 6 proposals and 6 refusals later, and I'm beginning to wonder if this is just another prank after all. I liked him better when he hated me. Very slightly a/u Jily.
1. A good looking guy asking a pretty girl

**A good looking guy asking a pretty girl.**

The last thing I want to see at seven on a Monday morning is a glaring, pastel pink poster with a disco ball (complete with sparkles!) and the words "SPRING BALL" emblazoned across it, but that's what I run straight into as I make my way across the dining hall for breakfast.

I splutter and attempt to push it away. "What the -"

"Look, Lily, look! The formal, the formal is finally happening!" Hannah's disembodied voice comes over the poster as she waves it around, pushing it harder against my nose. "Can you _believe _it?"

"Oh my god, Hannah, get that thing out of my face." I manage to push her arms down so that I can see around the pink monstrosity. Her huge brown eyes are shining with excitement.

"Merlin, Han, contain yourself," Quinn says, rolling her blue eyes and taking a large bite out of her toast. She speaks with a mouthful; "I don't think Lily's conscious enough to comprehend anything yet. Look at her, she's got her zombie face on. Did you even bother to brush your hair?"

I self-consciously pat the back of my head, and feel a tangle in the dark red strands; mhm, nothing more attractive than bed hair. I look at Quinn's perfectly braided hair and sigh internally. "…Maybe," I lie, sliding onto the bench beside Quinn and squishing up to her as Hannah sits on my other side.

"I don't care how tired you are, how can you not be excited for this?" Hannah exclaims.

"Oh, it's easy for you to be excited about a dance," I grumble, pouring myself a glass of apple juice. "You don't have to worry about a partner." Quinn pushes her glasses up her nose and nods in agreement.

"I can't wait to go dress shopping," Hannah prattles on, lost in thoughts of the wonderful night she and her boyfriend Remus Lupin are going to have, oblivious to her dreadfully single friends' complaint. She's practically glowing as she considers all the possible dresses she can wear. "And of course Remus will be colour coordinated -"

Quinn chokes on her toast. "Colour coordinated? Have you got that boy on a leash or what?"

A deep voice replies above our heads, "Not yet, but we might have to take that into consideration." I swivel around to see James Potter, his lips twisted into a smirk and his hazel eyes trained on the poster spread out on the table in front of us.

"If anyone needs a leash, Potter, it's you," I snap, thoroughly annoyed at the intrusion to my morning routine.

He laughs at my comment, amused but otherwise unaffected, and moves his penetrating gaze to me. "Not a morning person, are we, Evans?" I narrow my eyes into a glare in response. When he sees that I'm not going to speak, he runs a hand through his jet-black hair, tousling it, and leans right over the top of me to grab the poster. "So, the ball. I assume you'll be going with Remus -" he nods at Hannah, "but what about you lovely ladies?" He smiles at Quinn and I.

I feel my cheeks going red under his gaze, but Quinn, ever composed, quips, "Oh, we'll have a pile of suitors falling at our feet by mid-morning, just wait. But of course, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, stud muffin?" She lowers one of her darkly lashed eyelids in a sultry wink.

The corners of James's lips twitch into a smile, and he leans down again. "Allow me to be the first," he says, his face hovering right in front of mine. At this distance I can't help but notice that he smells amazing. I lean back but the edge of the table digs into my spine. I can't comprehend why James is even here, as we haven't had a civil conversation since we were eleven; unless he's just come over to deliberately torment me, which is very likely, although normally he at least lets me eat my breakfast in peace. "Evans," he breathes, "Will you come to the ball with me?"

I blink, dumbfounded. "What kind of sick joke is this, Potter?" I snarl.

He blinks once, and for a second I think I see something like panic flicker across the hazel of his eyes, but his expression remains unchanged. "No joke. Just a good looking guy asking a pretty girl to a dance. That's how it goes, isn't it?"

"Ha!" Finding that I can't lean back any more, I resort to leaning sideways onto Quinn's shoulder in an attempt to put some space between myself and James's disarmingly handsome face. "Not when it's you and me; and who says you're good looking anyway?"

Just when I run out of room to squirm away, I'm saved by a peel of laughter as Sirius Black wanders up to us, still in his pyjamas, and claps James on the back. "Just every girl in school," he answers. His long, dark hair is worse than mine, falling carelessly in front of his grey eyes. There's a shadow of stubble along his jaw, and the t-shirt he obviously slept in has what looks like an ink stain on the hem.

"Except me," I counter.

"Except you," he and James say in unison. Sirius continues, "Of course, Evans. What with you two being mortal enemies and all…"

I offer him a sarcastic smile.

"Is Remus around?" Hannah asks, peering around the boys to try and catch a glimpse of her boyfriend.

"Headed to the library, last I saw," James answers. "Something about a report due, I don't know."

"You two kept him out again, didn't you?" Hannah snaps, her excitement transitioning quickly to anger.

"Out?" I question, slathering jam on a slice of toast.

"You really shouldn't wander around the grounds after lights out," Quinn admonishes, but her tone is laced with equal parts sarcasm and humour. "Who knows what sort of trouble you're getting yourselves into?"

"But there's so much fun to be had after lights out, Quinn," Sirius says, grinning at her. "I've found that some of the best experiences can be had in the dark -"

"Is that because the girl can't see your face?" James cuts in.

We all burst out laughing, partly because every girl in school would kill for the chance to spend time alone with Sirius after dark, and partly because he looks hilariously offended. James seems immensely pleased with himself.

"Some friend you are," Sirius mutters, elbowing him in the ribs, but his eyes betray his amusement. "Come on then, I'm starving. Lovely to see you ladies." He goes to walk to an empty space down the table, but James hangs back.

"Evans, I never got an answer -"

I can't believe he's pushing this. "No, Potter."

"No?"

"No. Not in a thousand years."

He's staring at me very intently, smiling as though he knows something I don't know. "I must persist -"

"Persist away," I shrug. "But my answer isn't going to change."

"If you insist," he says, and turns to join Sirius. Just when I let out a sigh of relief he turns back and grabs my toast from my hand. "Thanks," he winks at me and saunters off, eating my delicious breakfast as he goes.

That bastard! How dare he steal my food?

The girls are smirking at me. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?"

"What? No, of course I have no idea!" I exclaim. "I'm just trying to have a nice, relaxing breakfast, and all of you bombard me with this bloody Spring Ball business – What is with Potter asking me, anyway? I thought he hated me."

Hannah watches the boys down the table. They're scuffling over the morning paper; Sirius has just grabbed it and is whacking James over the head with it. "I think he likes you, Lil."

I laugh out loud. "You're mad." I turn to Quinn for support, but she's smirking at me. "Eh, both of you are completely bonkers. It's probably just some sick prank of theirs. Thank god I didn't fall for it."

"If you insist," Quinn mutters, mimicking James's response. I punch her in the arm and grab a new slice of toast.

* * *

**a.n. **Yep, so this is an ever-so-slightly A/U version of how Lily and James got together.  
It'll be approximately 7 chapters long, updated once or twice week depending on how busy I get.  
It would be fantastic if you could let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!**  
**


	2. Bouquet

**Bouquet**

I didn't expect James to persist. I thought that I had turned him down yesterday and that was the end of that. When he didn't approach me again at all yesterday or this morning at breakfast I thought that I must have been right about it being a nasty prank that I hadn't fallen for. But now it's third period Herbology and he's seeming much more eager to be close to me than I'd anticipated.

"Evans," he says, pushing Hannah to the side and sidling up to me. "You're looking particularly ravishing today."

"That's a rather big word for you, isn't it?" I reply demurely.

He laughs and taps the end of my nose with his finger. "Fiesty," he tuts, winking at me. I swat his hand away with an offended scoff. Who taps someone on the nose? What am I, a dog?

I lean around him and clutch at Hannah's sleeve. She's deep in conversation with Remus, who's standing on her other side and looking slightly bedraggled today. His dark blonde hair is uncharacteristically tousled, though no where near as much as James's, and there are dark bags under his eyes, making his thin face look sallow. He looks like he hasn't had a decent sleep in weeks. That'll be James' and Sirius's fault, no doubt. Hannah is so enraptured by Remus's presence that I have to wrap my fingers around her wrist and give a forceful tug to get her to notice me. "Please save me," I mutter, trying to pull her back.

But James will have nothing of this. He sticks an arm out and remains stubbornly between us. "Don't you think Hannah would appreciate the chance to partner up with her beloved Remus, for a change?" I blink at her, and she shrugs guiltily. James tuts again. "Merlin's beard, Evans, how selfish of you to hog her for this whole time, thinking only of yourself -"

Indignation burns my cheeks. I point my finger at his chest and open my mouth to yell at him, but Professor Sprout enters the greenhouse and claps her gloved hands together. "Ready, class? Very exciting activity, today, we'll be -" She falters as she takes in the scene of James standing with his arms flung out dramatically and me pointing at him threateningly. "Is everything alright there, Miss Evans and Mr Potter?"

I drop my arms and shuffle back. "Fine, Professor."

James grins happily and turns so that he's facing the long table standing in the middle of the greenhouse. Hannah is polite enough to mouth a _sorry _to me before forgetting about me completely and staring adoringly at Remus. So I suppose I'm stuck with Potter, then. Fantastic.

"As I was saying," Sprout continues, "today we're going to -"

I don't hear what it is that we're doing today, because James leans down and whispers in my ear, "Isn't this splendid, Evans? You and I, partnering up, working together as a team -"

"Shh!" I hiss, keeping my eyes focused on Professor Sprout and trying to read her lips. "I can't hear -"

"Just bask in it, Evans," Potter prattles on, his warm breath shifting the loose strands of dark red hair curling around my ear. I shuffle my weight onto my left foot, trying to subtly shift away from him. "Relish the feeling of standing so close to me, begin to comprehend how unstoppable the two of us could be together-"

"Stop it," I snap, turning my head to glare at James.

He blinks at me innocently. "I'm just saying, the possibilities are endless."

I roll my eyes. "I am _trying _to listen to Professor Sprout," I whisper angrily. "If you're going to insist on being my partner at least let me listen to the instructions so I have something to do while you annoy me."

James holds his hands up, palms facing me, but doesn't say anything. When he drops his hands one of them brushes against mine, and I pull my arm away sharply. The only thing I relish is the refreshing silence. Unfortunately it can't last.

As soon as Professor Sprout has told us all to get to work re-potting the very rare grey cactus-like plants known as Mimbulus mimbletonia ("Careful, avoid the boils! Everyone watch Frank Longbottom, he's got the idea!") James is right back to flirting with me. I'm elbow deep in a pot when he thrusts a bunch of bright red roses in front of my nose. The smell is intoxicating, and the petals look as soft as silk. I pull my arms out of the pot and blink stupidly at James, struggling against the strong urge that's suddenly overtaken me to grab the flowers from him.

"Red roses symbolise true love," he tells me, matter-of-factly.

"Don't you think that's a bit over the top, Prongs?" Remus asks from behind him.

I laugh, but Hannah has a stupid smile on her face that suggests she thinks the roses are _so _romantic. I have to admit, they are pretty amazing. If only they'd come from someone who wasn't James Potter.

"Let me work my magic, Moony," James says, not taking his eyes off mine.

"Where did you get them, Potter?" I ask, trying to block out how incredible they look – and smell – and are -

He smiles and leans forward conspiratorially. "I can't reveal all of my secrets, Evans." He's still holding the bouquet out to me with one hand, but he lifts the other towards his hair. Just before it touches the dark strands he realises that his glove is covered in dirt and awkwardly stops the movement. A small clump of dirt falls onto the lens of his glasses.

I resist the urge to reach out and clean it off. He looks slightly ridiculous. "Well, what are they for?"

"For you, _ma belle_."

"For _me_?" I flutter a hand against my chest girlishly. "Oh my, how very sweet of you, Potter." I take them from his hand and allow myself to bury my nose in the petals for just a moment, breathing in their sweet scent. Merlin, I don't think I've ever smelt anything so beautiful before in my life. They feel so smooth and soft against my skin, I want to dive right into the bouquet. I look up at James over the top of the roses. He is quite good looking, really, with his chiselled jaw and Quidditch-toned body… "What have I done to deserve such sweetness?"

"They are a token of my affection," James says, puffing his chest out proudly, as though he's the first boy in the world to give a girl flowers.

"Affection's a bit better than undying love," Remus mutters, and Hannah gasps as though he's mortally offended her personally by pointing out that James is being completely over-the-top.

"It was actually true love," James says, glancing at his friend over his shoulder. "But undying love is a good one, thanks mate."

"Potter," I say, and he brings his attention back to me. "Why are you really giving me flowers?"

"To show my undying love -" When I narrow my eyes at him he smiles charmingly. "Will you come to the Spring Ball with me?" Even through the clump of dirt still hanging on his right lens, I can see the hope in his eyes. What is _with_ him lately?

"Why would I go to the Spring Ball with you, Potter? You hate me." I say bluntly. I keep my fingers curled tightly around the thornless stems of the roses though. Just because I'm turning him down doesn't mean I can't keep the gift.

The corners of his mouth turn down, and he pulls one of his gloves off roughly. He busies himself with cleaning his glasses with his robes, keeping his eyes downcast. A jolt of panic hits me. Have I _hurt _him? Is that even possible? No, surely not. When he lifts his head again he's got the same arrogant smirk as normal. Behind the now-clean lenses his eyes are unreadable. He seems the same as always. I let out a sigh of relief. This is all just an act, a stupid idea he's come up with to entertain himself, and I am not falling for it.

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?" He says in a playful voice.

"No stronger than love," I reply.

Before I have a chance to see his reaction, Professor Sprout is looming up behind him and glowering at me. "_Where_," she begins, her small voice trembling dangerously, "did you get those, Miss Evans?"

I shrink back, looking from the red roses in my hands to her face. I'm startled to see that they're nearly the same colour. "Professor, I –uh –well, Potter gave them -"

"Mr Potter," she snaps, and James spins on his heel. He steps back so that he's right beside me, and even though we're both taller than Professor Sprout we both seem to shrink in the face of her anger. "Where did you get those roses?"

"Well, Professor Sprout, I was just admiring the beautiful job you've done with all of the plants at the back of the greenhouse," James says in his most flattering voice. "The Puffapods are looking particularly healthy at the moment, marvellous work with them -"

"You stole these enchanted roses from my greenhouse, didn't you?" Sprout accuses.

"You gave me _enchanted, stolen, roses_?" I hiss at James. I can't believe he'd do something that thick. Oh wait, it's James Potter. Of course he'd do something that thick.

He grins at me as though he's got the whole situation under control before turning his most winning smile back on Professor Sprout. "It's technically _not _stealing, exactly, because I didn't take them out of the greenhouse -"

Remus stifles a laugh with his fist.

"Detention!" Professor Sprout yells. "Detention, both of you!"

But-but… I _do not _get detention! I am not going to get a detention because of James Toe-Rag Potter!

"But Professor -" James and I cry in unison. After an awkward pause, I continue. "But Professor Sprout, please, I had nothing to do with this -"

"Those are my enchanted roses you're clutching, Miss Evans, and if I hear another word from either of you I'll double the detentions." Sprout stalks away, huffing about ungrateful students who don't appreciate the art of Herbology.

"You got me a detention!" I yell at James, furious. "You got me put in bloody _detention!_"

"Evans," James says calmly, smirking at me infuriatingly. "It's just more time that the two of us get to spend together."

"I-you-_argh! _You are _impossible_!"

Sprout signals the end of class, and I throw the roses down on the table as I stuff my belongings back into my bag. Hannah and Remus are waiting for me at the exit, but I storm pass them, too upset to talk. I'm about one hundred metres towards the castle when I realise that my hands feel oddly empty. I spin around and push through the crowd, ignoring Hannah and Remus's confused looks, to get back to the greenhouse. James is still standing there, holding the bouquet.

"Give me my flowers," I snap, reaching for them.

"So you like them?" he says brightly, holding the flowers just out of my reach. "I knew they were perfect as soon as I saw them!"

"_Potter_," Professor Sprout and I say in deadly unison.

I put my hands on my hips. "Give me the bouquet."

James looks back at Professor Sprout, who sighs resignedly. "You've already cut them off, might as well let her enjoy them," she says, but she still looks terribly annoyed at the both of us.

He walks up to me and presses the stems into my waiting hands. "I'm as enchanting as the roses, you know," he whispers. He's so close to me that my eyes are drawn to his lips, and I watch the words as they form. "Give me a chance, Evans." The smell of the roses, the feel of his hand brushing against mine through their petals, his face hovering just in front of me – It's all too much. My heart is fluttering against my rib cage, my pulse racing against my skin, and I realise with a jolt of panic that some part of me agrees with James's words.

"In your dreams," I say softly, before snatching the bouquet completely out of his grasp and stomping from the greenhouse.

It's only when I'm hidden away behind the curtains of my four-poster bed later that night, safe from prying eyes, that I lift the roses up, inhaling deeply and brushing their silky petals against my lips. Only then do I admit to myself that James Potter _is _rather enchanting, when he wants to be.

* * *

**a.n. **thank you, thank you, thank you to _scarpelt18_, _JessandDarcy, _and _Super Cara _for reviewing.  
_Super Cara _did point out a small error in the last chapter, and I went back and edited just a few small things in it.  
Oh, and this is set at the end of their sixth year; Hence the slightly a/u rating I gave it.  
I really should be revising for my exams next week, not writing stories, so this is the last update for roughly a week.  
Please let me know what you think!


	3. Sirius

**Sirius.**

Sirius looks a little bit like a homeless person, I think as he comes through the doors leading onto the courtyard. An attractive homeless person, but a homeless person none the less. His rumpled school shirt is untucked and his collar is sticking up, his dark hair is falling carelessly in front of his grey eyes and there's a small scar on his left cheek that's mainly hidden by his hair but illuminated by the moonlight. As soon as he's outside he pulls out a cigarette, lights it and inhales deeply. As he struts towards me, his steps echoing off the stone walls surrounding us, he blows a stream of smoke straight at me. I cough and wave a hand in front of my face.

"Are you right there, Black?" I ask disdainfully.

He takes another puff and grins at me lazily. "Perfect thanks, Evans. Yourself?"

"I've been better," I reply honestly.

He gives me a quizzical look as he leans against the wall beside me, bending one knee to rest his foot against the bricks. He shoves the hand not holding the cigarette in the pocket of his trousers.

"Why's that?"

"Because _your _friend got me put in detention," I tell his profile, lolling my head back to touch the wall.

His deep laugh echoes around the courtyard. "Ah yes, the great stolen roses incident. Not James's best moment, but amusing none the less."

I wrinkle my nose at the smell of the smoke as much as at his comment and mutter, "Amusing is not the word I would use."

"Of course not, you'd probably use something much more intelligent, like… enrapturing."

"Or bloody frustrating," I snap.

Sirius laughs again. "Is that what's brought you out here at this late hour?"

I stare out at the fountain bubbling away in the middle of the courtyard, moonlight reflecting on the water, and consider what I should say. "It is, as a matter of fact. I thought some fresh air might be nice." I stare pointedly at the orange glow coming from the cigarette he's now dangling between his fingers.

He sighs dramatically before blowing some more smoke in my face. "Terrible habit, so sorry," he says without a trace of sincerity. There's a pause before he muses, "It's a bit ironic, don't you think, that you're upset about getting a detention, and so you sneak out after hours to ruminate on the fact you have a detention, an act which could very well earn you another detention?"

Oh, Merlin, this is the worst day of my life.

I cover my face with my hands. "Thanks for rubbing it in," I say sadly, my voice muffled by my palms.

I hear Sirius chuckle quietly. "A detention's not the end of the world, you know. We all get one eventually."

"Not _me_," I insist, lowering my hands so I can look at him. "I had a perfect record before this, and now Potter's gone and got me in such huge trouble -"

"You're in trouble alright," Sirius nods wisely. When he sees my panicked expression he smirks. "Hannah told me that you've got those roses in a vase on your bedside table, and that you think no one notices you staring at them or smelling them, but she does notice and she's starting to worry for your sanity."

I gasp, "No, you're lying!"

"You're right," he says, and I feel relief flood through me. Until he elaborates, "Hannah didn't tell me, she told Remus and I made Remus tell me. And I added the part about being worried for your sanity. I thought it fit quite nicely though."

I'm praying that he can't see the blush heating up my face. "I - I don't have them, though, I mean, Molly must be confused -" Sirius raises one eyebrow at me and I immediately deflate. "Fine. I kept them. But they're just some stupid roses. I do _not _constantly look at them or smell them."

"I never said anything about 'constantly'," Sirius points out smugly. "But thanks for that detail, James will love to know that he's constantly on your mind."

"I never said that!" I exclaim, losing my temper. "Don't you dare tell him any of this!"

Sirius finally drops his cigarette and rubs it into the ground with the toe of his shoe. He waits until there's no more smoke curling from the dying embers to look up at me. I'm startled to see him looking completely serious. It might just be the lighting, but I don't think I've ever seen him without some exaggerated expression on his face.

"And why shouldn't I?" He questions.

I find myself stammering over the answer. _Why shouldn__'__t he? _I mean, I don't care what James thinks of me. Do I? "Because- Because it- it's not true."

He continues to stare at me, his face infuriatingly neutral. "What's not true?"

"That I like the roses," I spit out, folding my arms over my chest angrily.

"So why'd you keep them?" Sirius asks, without any inflection.

I drop my arms and chew on my bottom lip, because I know that he's got me now, and he knows it too. "Fine," I relent, my tone still venomous. "Because it's embarrassing."

"I don't think James will find it embarrassing."

I push my hair back off my forehead hopelessly. "Of course he will! He'll love it, because he'll think it means I've fallen for his stupid prank, whatever it is, and he'll gloat about it for weeks and just generally make my life a living hell because he's made me feel -" I stop myself before the next words can roll off my tongue, because, to be perfectly honest, I don't know what it is that Potter has made – is making – me feel.

"Made you feel what?" Sirius presses.

"Made me feel ridiculous," I reply, somewhat honestly.

Sirius appraises me for a moment. "It's not a prank, you know. I don't know where the hell you got that idea from."

"Oh, I don't know," I say sarcastically, waving my arms around like the madwoman I fear I'm turning into. "Maybe I thought it because that's all you Marauders have done to me for the past six years – prank me and make my life miserable."

"Aw, come on now, Evans," Sirius says, pouting at me. "We've had some great times." He snakes an arm around my shoulders and squeezes me to him chummily. "Remember when we accidentally set your hair on fire, or when we saved you from falling off your broom when that stray bludger hit you- "

"A bludger that _you _released!" I push away and stare at him like _he _is the mad person here. "Both times I felt like I was going to die!"

"Well, there's always all those times we've made every other girl at Hogwarts incredibly jealous by giving you so much attention."

"Small consolation for years of torment," I shake my head at him.

We both relax back into leaning against the wall, a little closer than we were before. I can still smell cigarette smoke lingering on Sirius and I want to tell him to get a breath mint, but before I can he's speaking again.

"So you really don't think James is serious?"

I fiddle with the hem of my jumper. "No, I don't."

"Why do you think he's insisting then?" Sirius asks reasonably.

"Because he's decided that this is how he's going to entertain himself for the next few weeks; I don't know." I blink at Sirius suspiciously. "Did he send you out here to talk to me?"

"Nah, he doesn't even know I'm gone. Snoring like a damn gorilla back in our dorm," he answers. I mustn't look convinced, because he adds, "I don't actually know if gorillas snore, but trust me, he's out to the world. If he'd known you were out here he would have come with me."

"But _why_? He hates me." Something in Sirius's eyes makes me ask, "Doesn't he?"

"People change, you know," Sirius replies cryptically.

"What does that mean?"

"It _means_," he says in a condescending tone, "that maybe you should give him a chance."

"Funny," I mutter, "that's exactly what he said."

Sirius breaks out into a genuine grin at this. "Great minds think alike," he informs me, tapping the scar on his forehead with his index finger.

I've never noticed that scar before… "How did you get that?" I ask without thinking.

"What, this?" he taps the scar again, and I nod, feeling slightly awkward for bringing up such a personal thing. He shrugs his shoulders and says, as though it's not a big deal, "I was in a duelling accident over the Summer break. A hex hit my head. Nothing major."

"Nothing major?" I splutter, amazed that this news hasn't spread around the entire school. "You –you could have been seriously injured, if the hex was enough to leave a scar like that; on your head, too!"

"But I wasn't," Sirius says nonchalantly, but I notice a faint crease on his forehead. "And isn't that a good thing, because I do believe this school would fall apart without me here to keep things in order."

I laugh, and he smiles, and the mood is back to being light hearted. The clock tower chimes one o'clock and I sigh. "I suppose we should get back inside, before anyone notices us out here."

Sirius rocks back on his heels. "I knew that your risk-taking would have a limit, Evans."

"Old habits die hard. One detention isn't going to wipe out years of being well-behaved."

"See, I told you it wasn't a big deal," he exclaims happily.

I open my mouth to protest, but then I realise that he's right. One detention won't change my life, and it probably was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm grateful for his expertise at sneaking through the school as he leads me back to Gryffindor tower without incident, and when we get to the staircases that lead to the dorms, I smile up at him.

"Thanks for the chat, Black."

He tips an invisible hat to me. "You're always welcome, Evans."

We turn and begin walking in separate directions up to our respective dorms, but I suddenly stop and run back down to yell out to him, "You won't tell Potter anything, will you?"

Even in the darkness I can see the glint in Sirius's eyes as he shouts back, "I may mention the fact that you're completely smitten and can't stop thinking about him."

For some insane reason, instead of yelling at him for being an idiot, I just smile and wave goodbye. He waves back, and then we hear footsteps in the distance, coming from somewhere behind Sirius.

"Well, gotta run," he says, waving back and darting up the stairs.

I turn away, hoping that he makes it into his dorm before the person we woke up catches him, because there's I don't doubt it will be an angry prefect. When I collapse into my bed, mildly exhausted from sprinting up the winding staircase, I realise that I was a complete fool to yell out to him like that in the Common Room; of course someone was bound to hear us. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realise that practically every single thing I said tonight was foolish, and that Sirius is probably going to use it all against me in the most vindictive way possible.

I glance at the roses, arranged nicely in the vase beside my bed, and notice the smile that instinctively tugs up the corners of my lips.

Oh, Merlin's beard, I _am _in trouble.

I roll over and bury my face in my pillow, trying to block out the smell of smoke lingering around me from Sirius's damn cigarette and the thoughts of James cluttering my mind. Both things stubbornly remain until I finally drift into an uneasy sleep.

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**a.n. P**lllleeeeeaaassseee review. Even just a smiley face or something. Anything!  
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	4. Detention

**Detention.**

Professor Sprout unexpectedly caught my arm in the hallway between Charms and Transfiguration this morning, and I nearly dropped my books as I was spun around to face her.

"I trust you haven't forgotten about your detention, Miss Evans," she said, barely disguising her glee.

"I haven't, Professor," I replied, juggling my books awkwardly as other students on their way to class jostled by me.

"Straight after class this afternoon, in Greenhouse 1," she informed me smartly. "Do not be late."

"Okay," I nodded, terrified once again of what having a detention would mean for me. I've never had one before, who knows what kind of torturous punishment they put you through in detention?

My chat with Sirius last night momentarily made me feel better about the whole thing, but when I woke up this morning all I could think of was how I'd spoken to him about James and what he could be plotting to do with the information I'd given him, and it made me feel sick. So now, as I'm walking across the grounds to the greenhouses, my stomach is twisted into knots so severe I'm a little bit scared I might throw up. Wouldn't that be disastrous? As if having a detention isn't bad enough, I could just make things that little bit worse by vomiting in the middle of the school. Oh Merlin.

When I get to Greenhouse1 I find it deserted, and for a brief moment I wonder if I've come to the wrong place. But no, I'm certain Professor Sprout said it was here. She's probably just running late from another class or something. I place my books on the table running the length of the greenhouse and stand beside it awkwardly, looking around for something to capture my attention.

"You can sit down, you know," a voice says from the doorway, with a touch of mocking.

I whip my head around to see James leaning against the doorframe, looking the very picture of cool, calm and collected. His shirt is tucked in, his tie is done up properly and his collar down, there's one perfect crease in the very centre of each of his pants legs, and I swear that his shoes have been polished. Even his hair looks so uncharacteristically perfect today, slicked back with not a single strand out of place. The sight of him so put together takes my breath away for a moment. It's more for that reason than his words that I pull out the chair behind me and sit down.

"Potter," I say, a little more breathily than I intended. "What are you – I didn't expect to see you here."

He saunters across to me and drops his books down on top of mine with a dull thud. "It's detention, Evans, not solitary confinement." And now I feel stupid, so I just look down at my own unpolished shoes and scuff my toes against the legs of my chair. He must sense my unease, because he goes on. "You really are new to this whole being in trouble thing, aren't you?"

There's no condescension or malice in his voice, so I just shrug. "I've never had a detention before."

"_Never_?" He questions incredulously, as though the fact I've made it to sixteen without a detention is a miracle.

"Never," I affirm. "That's why I got so upset at you in Herbology."

He walks off to the professor's chair at the far end of the greenhouse and falls easily back into the worn seat. He puts his feet up on the wooden table, crossing his legs at the ankles, and leans back with his arms folded behind his head. He looks so ridiculously casual that I nearly laugh. "Gee, I'm sorry," he says sincerely. He scans our surroundings before bringing his hazel eyes to rest on me. Surprisingly, I meet his gaze easily. "I hope the roses made up for it a little bit."

"Black told you," I say before I can censor myself.

He tilts his head to the side, confused. "Black told me what?"

"About – about me keeping the roses?" I elaborate, but it comes out sounding more like a question.

James grins at me. "So you did keep them after all." At my puzzled glance his eyes darken ever so slightly, but when he speaks it's with a laugh. "No, Sirius didn't tell me anything. Why, have you two been having secret rendezvous behind my back?"

I glance back down at my shoes. "No, we just bumped into each other and, well, anyway, Hannah is a bigmouth who can't help but tell her boyfriend everything and she told him that I'd kept the roses."

"Where are they?"

I blink. "Where are what, Black and Hannah?"

James's nose crinkles as he chuckles at me. "The _roses_."

"Oh, they're beside my bed," I tell him, wondering why on Earth he'd want to know a detail like that.

Before I can ask, Professor Sprout has swept into the room. In the millisecond that it took her eyes to move from me to the chair at the far end of the greenhouse James has jumped out of the seat and is standing beside the table, innocently shoving a piece of crumpled parchment he grabbed from I don't know where into his pocket.

"Good to see that both of you can at least be punctual," Sprout says sternly, but I can tell that already she's not as mad at us as she was. "Now, unfortunately I've been called to an unavoidable staff meeting, but I am trusting the two of you to clean every empty pot and dirty trowel in this greenhouse while I'm gone; _without magic_. I will be doing a thorough check when I return, and if I'm not happy with your progress I won't hesitate to keep you here through dinner. Understood?" James and I nod in silent unison. Professor Sprout sets her lips into a thin line as she turns to leave. "I will be able to tell if you've used spells. Don't make me regret trusting you with this simple task."

As soon as she's out of earshot, James wanders over to the door and swings it shut. "At last, some privacy."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Privacy for what, Potter?" I sweep an arm in the direction of the sinks piled high with dirty gardening tools lining the side of the greenhouse. "You better not have any funny ideas, because with all of these to clean without magic we'll be lucky to get out of here by dinner even if we do work fast paced."

"Oh, but Evans, I'm just full of funny ideas," he says, as though I've mortally wounded him.

I roll my eyes and walk over to the sinks to begin our job. I clear the pots and trays out of my path to put the plug in the plughole and turn the taps on. I can't find any detergent, so I use my wand to add some soap to the rising water, and turn to check on my detention mate. Unfortunately he's just sitting on the top of the table watching me with vague interest.

"Are you going to help?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "You seem to have things under control."

I take a deep breath in, trying to control my anger. "I am only here because of you," I snap. "So you need to get your arse off that desk and over here to help me, now, or you will regret it."

Rather than being frightened into action by my threat, James just points over my shoulder and says, "The sink's overflowing."

I spin around to see white bubbles flowing over the brim of the sink, spilling across the counter and flowing down the cupboard doors underneath it to pool on the floor. "Oh shit!" I yell, nearly slipping in a soapy puddle in my haste to turn the taps off. I grab a dirty rag and start trying to mop up the mess, but the material gets soaked through in seconds. I put a wet hand to my forehead and groan. "What did I do to deserve this?"

I sense James behind me before he's close enough to actually touch me. The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my stomach seems to flip. "Let me help," he says. He still hasn't touched me, but his warm breath hits the back of my neck and he's so close to me that if I were to spin around right now I would be pressed against his chest –

He takes the rag from my left hand and steps around me, and my breathing goes back to normal. What is wrong with me? With one wave of his wand he's cleaned up all of the mess.

"Oh, thanks for helping _now_," I snap sarcastically.

"I'm not the one who left the taps running."

I snatch the rag back from him violently and throw it down onto the bench. "If you had have just helped from the beginning I wouldn't have been distracted by asking you to get off your lazy arse." I start scrubbing a flowerpot with a little more force than is necessary.

"If you weren't so pedantic and had given me a minute I would have come over and bloody helped on my own," James complains from beside my feet, where he's stooped down to grab a trowel I knocked off in my haste to stop the water leaking any further away from the sink.

"If you hadn't stolen those roses we wouldn't even be here!"

"If you had just said yes when I asked you to the ball at breakfast on Monday I wouldn't have needed to steal those roses!" James stands up, and I can see that he's genuinely angry now.

His anger pisses me off even more, because what right does he have to be angry at me when all of this is his fault in the first place? I shout at him, "And if you hadn't been such a prat to me for the past six years maybe I would have said yes!"

He has nothing to say to that, no comeback that can prove me wrong or witty response that could deflect the blame, and so we stand there glowering at each other in a tense silence. My hands are shaking with anger and his are balled into fists at his sides, and I cannot believe that James Toe-Rag Potter has got me put in detention. I don't care what Sirius says, everything about this situation is horrible.

Suddenly I feel like I might cry, and I start to blink furiously to try and keep the tears at bay. I refuse to give James the satisfaction of seeing me cry, and so I turn away and start furiously washing the pile of flowerpots to my left. There's no sound apart from my own movements for a few minutes, and then I hear the sink at the very far end of the greenhouse being filled and the clanking of clay and metal as James starts to wash the gardening tools down that end.

We work in a stony silence for the next hour - although it feels like it's been about four – until we meet at the sink in the very centre of the bench. By now there's only a handful of trowels and pots left to wash, and I figure that the sooner I get them washed the sooner I can get out of here. Professor Sprout should be back soon, surely. I reach out to grab a trowel stained with a green substance, but freeze when James coughs awkwardly.

"Don't – I mean, don't worry. I'll finish these," he says, not looking at me.

I watch him for a moment, trying to decipher if he's being serious. His eyes are downcast and he refuses to look up at me, so I can't really tell, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and pass the trowel to his outstretched hand. Without another word he goes on to wash the last few things, while I perch on the edge of a stool nearby and nervously chew my bottom lip.

When he finishes he takes his time to meticulously place the remaining pots, trowels and trays into their respective cupboards and wipe down the entire bench. Only when it's all absolutely spotless does he turn around, but when he does he only glances at me for a second before striding across the room to grab his books and heading for the door.

"Potter!" I call out suddenly, launching forward off my seat. He stops dead in his tracks but doesn't turn to face me or say a word, and now that I'm standing and have his attention I have no idea what I wanted to say, so I finish lamely. "Thank you, for- for doing those last ones."

He remains still for a few seconds, and I find myself getting incredibly frustrated at the fact that I can't tell what he's thinking. He turns around slowly, and when he lifts his head he's wearing his usual confident smirk. "That's alright, Evans. Like you said, it's my fault you're here in the first place." Something about the way he says it makes my stomach lurch.

He goes to leave again, and again I speak out to stop him. "Aren't you going to wait for Professor Sprout?"

"Nah," he says smoothly, "tell her I felt sick and had to leave." He holds my gaze for a few seconds and there's something in his eyes that I just can't quite read. He exits the room without any further explanation, and just before he disappears out of sight I see him lift a hand and ruffle his hair.

When Professor Sprout returns five minutes later she finds me slumped on a stool, staring at the clean bench with a vacant stare. I tell her that James felt sick and had to leave, but make it clear that he only left once all of the cleaning was done.

"You look a little pale, too, dear," Sprout says, back to her usual good-natured self now that I've repaid my debt. "Perhaps you've come down with something too and should stop by the Hospital Wing as well."

"Maybe I will," I agree, nodding as I grab my books.

Dinner's happening in the Great Hall at the moment, but instead of heading down for food I go straight to the Hospital Wing, because I do feel funny.

Madam Pomfrey, a kindly middle-aged woman who always has her mousy brown hair pulled back in a severe bun, greets me at the door. "Are you okay?" she asks, ushering me inside.

For some strange reason, instead of telling her how I'm feeling odd, I hear myself asking, "Has James Potter been in here tonight?"

Madam Pompfrey looks at me strangely and shakes her head. "No, no he hasn't. Why, is he okay?"

"Oh," I say, not bothering to hide my disappointment, even though I don't know _why _I'm disappointed he's not here. He just had a huge fight with me over something that is all his fault; I should be making sure to stay away from him, not seeking him out.

"Still obsessing over James I see."

I look up to see Sirius at the end of the room, popping a tablet into his mouth and swallowing it with a huge gulp of water.

"What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Black?" I ask, but I can't really bring myself to put enough bite into it to make it sound either lively or insulting.

"I just come here to see Madam Pomfrey," he says with a wink in the nurse's direction, and she laughs at him as though he's being ridiculous –which he is- but I notice a faint pink blush cross her cheeks. "But you can't possibly be here for the same reason, she and I have just agreed to go steady."

Madam Pomfrey shakes her head and says, "Oh, Mr Black, don't be so silly." But she smiles at him over her shoulder as she goes off to check on a girl with her arm dangling strangely by her side.

"I don't know why I'm here," I tell Sirius. "I feel… strange."

"Perhaps you're a changed woman, after going through your first ever detention," he offers. "Nice to see that you survived, by the way."

I snort. "Barely."

"And what do you mean by that?" Sirius says, leaning towards me.

I twist my fingers together. Why do I even care if James is upset with me? I'm the one that should be upset at him for treating me terribly, not the other way around. And why would I talk to Sirius about it, of all people? I look up to see Sirius's steady grey eyes, waiting patiently for me to speak, and my resolve melts. If anyone can tell me what's going on with James, Sirius can.

"Your best mate is a complete prat!" I exclaim angrily.

The corners of Sirius's mouth twitch, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, which is lucky for him, because I think I might have slapped him if he had laughed at me now. "A matter of opinion, but why don't you tell me all about it while we mosey on down to the Great Hall for some food?"

"I'm not hungry," I sniff.

Sirius puts a hand on the small of my back and pushes me towards the doors anyway. "Come on, food makes everything better. Besides, I'm headed that way whether you are or not, so if you want my sympathetic and knowledgeable ear to listen to your problems you're going to have to come this way."

I give in and let him lead me out into the corridor, and as we fall into step I tell him everything that happened in detention. When we get to the doors of the Great Hall he stops and looks down at me thoughtfully. "I'm going to say it again, Evans, and I hope you'll listen to me this time. People change. James is trying his best to show you that."

"How is blowing up at me over something that's _his _fault going to show me that he's changed?" I retort.

Sirius scoffs, "You have a bit of a temper yourself. Probably a red-head thing, not really your fault, though." I narrow my eyes at him, and he continues in a more serious tone, "I'm not saying you have to do anything drastic, okay? Just cut him some slack. He's a good guy, Evans."

"If he wants to make things right why doesn't he just apologise, not ask me to the ball?" I sigh exasperatedly.

"That would involve admitting he was wrong," Sirius says wisely, pushing open the doors and gesturing for me to go in before him. "And men never do that."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say sarcastically, stomping off to Quinn and Hannah. When I push in between them they both look at me with wide eyes.

"I take it detention didn't go too well?" Hannah asks delicately.

"Horrid," I say, grabbing a bread roll from the basket in front of me and snapping it in half. "I don't even want to talk about it."

"James doesn't seem to be in a talkative mood either," Quinn points out, nodding in the direction of the doors I just came through. I instinctively look up to see the back of James's now-messy head of hair disappearing around the door. I glance over at Sirius and Remus, who both look worried.

"James Potter," I say angrily, "would do the world a favour if he never spoke again."

"Whoa." My friends blink at me. Quinn says, "I don't think I've seen you this mad since he set your hair on fire."

"Oh no," Hannah interjects, "she was pretty furious the time he set that bludger lose and it knocked her off her broom."

"Can we not talk about Potter?" I say forcefully, closing my eyes against the bright and busy scene of students enjoying their evening meal.

"Okay," Hannah says, and I feel her small hand cautiously patting me on the back. "We're sorry you had a bad afternoon."

"Thank you." I take a deep breath in and slowly release it before opening my eyes.

I chew on my bread roll just so I don't have to speak as the two of them talk about our Potions homework, not really paying attention, until Quinn suddenly asks, "Lily, did you polish your shoes?"

I look down to see that all of the spilt soap from the overflowed sink has indeed cleaned all the dirt off of my shoes, and the black leather is shining up at me brilliantly. All I can do is laugh.

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	5. Public declaration

**Public declaration.**

I was so upset last night that it took me hours to get to sleep. I couldn't seem to stop staring at the roses on my bedside table, watching the shadows the moonlight made on their beautiful, burgundy petals and thinking about why James had given them to me. My mind chased itself in circles; Is it possible that he genuinely does have feelings for me? If he does, how could he just have gone from hating me to wanting to take me to the formal overnight? And, most importantly, how do I feel about him? I must have eventually drifted off, because one moment I was pondering all this and the next moment Quinn is shaking my shoulder and yelling something muffled at me.

"Whassamatterwifyou?" I mumble, thrashing around under my covers.

"Geddup," she says loudly, and I open my eyes enough to see that she's in the process of brushing her teeth.

"Ewwrrrgghhh," I groan and attempt to roll over, partly to get away from any stray toothpaste she may spit at me and partly because I just want to go back to sleep.

"Geddup!" She says again, grabbing my shoulder and shaking it so savagely I nearly topple out of the other side of my bed. I stubbornly grab my blankets and pull them over my head.

"Is she up yet?" I hear Hannah call from the bathroom.

"Nod yed," Quinn replies, giving me an almighty shove with what feels like her entire body weight thrown behind it. I roll off the edge of my bed, dragging all of my covers with me and landing in a tangled heap on the cold floor.

"Alright, alright!" I exclaim, pushing the blankets down off my head so that I can see. "Merlin, I'm awake."

Hannah sticks her head around the corner. She obviously hasn't yet touched her hair, because the brunette curls are sticking up wildly, bouncing around with every slight movement she makes. She looks a little bit like she's been electrocuted.

"Quinn," she sighs as the other girl pushes past her to finish brushing her teeth. "I asked you to wake her up, not push her out of bed."

There's a gargling noise, and then Quinn says clearly, "Same thing."

"It's fine," I say, still sitting on the floor wrapped up in my soft red duvet. "My internal organs broke my fall."

"Well it _worked, _didn't it?" Quinn says, stepping back into our dorm and heading over to her cupboard.

It's only when I follow her movements that I notice the other two girls we share our dorm with are absent, their beds perfectly made. "Where is everyone?" I question, finally finding the energy to stand up. My knees crack as I stretch myself out.

"Already down at breakfast, like every normal person is at this hour, you fool," Quinn answers. She grabs a gold and scarlet striped scarf from her cupboard and drapes it over her delicate shoulders.

The red colour immediately reminds me of my roses, and I whip around to see them lying on their sides in a pool of water on my bedside table. When I fell out of my bed I must have knocked them, because the vase has toppled over and rolled precariously close to the edge of the table top. "Oh no!" I exclaim, scooping the flowers up and settling them back into the vase. I scurry into the bathroom and push the vase into a sink to fill it back up with fresh water. When it's sufficiently full I look up to see Hannah smiling knowingly.

"What?" I ask, clutching the vase to my chest protectively.

"Nothing," she says, smirking at my reflection as she applies blush to her naturally rosy cheeks.

"They're really pretty flowers!" I snap defensively.

As I stalk back out to put the vase in its rightful place beside my bed Quinn shakes her head at me. "Really, Lily?"

"What?" I ask innocently, turning a few stems until I'm completely happy with the arrangement again.

"They're probably going to die in a few days, you know," Quinn tells me, somewhat coldly.

I shrug. "They _are _enchanted. And they'll last until the ball, at least."

"Ohhhh, until the ball!" Hannah echoes, exiting the bathroom with her hair tamed into a ponytail. "How _romantic_."

"What do you mean, romantic?"

"She thinks it's romantic because you think Potter will give you a new bunch when you go to the ball together," Quinn clarifies.

I spin away from my friends, irrationally grumpy. "I am not going to the ball with Potter. I do not _want _to go to the ball with Potter. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?"

"You can't deny your feelings forever, Lily darling," Hannah says, a slight singsong quality to her words.

I snatch up my uniform from where it lies in a crumpled heap on the floor, half buried underneath the blankets it was folded on top of when I went to bed last night. "I'm not denying anything," I say haughtily as I go into the bathroom to get changed. "I'm just telling you the truth."

I slam the door shut behind me but I can still hear Quinn utter sarcastically, "You know our dear Lily isn't a morning person."

I pretend not to hear her and attempt to hastily put on my uniform, but it's obviously not going to be my day. My stockings catch on a hangnail and I get a ladder running up the side of my thigh, but thankfully my skirt hides most of it. It takes me two attempts to button up my oxford shirt before I get the buttons in the right hole, three goes at getting my tie right, and I even manage to put my jumper on back to front. When I've finally managed to get my clothes sorted I don't even want to look at my face in the mirror, but I brush my teeth and then force myself to apply a light coat of foundation to cover the patchy redness on my cheeks and the purple bags underneath my eyes. I decide that my hair is a lost cause and just shove a black headband on top of my head, extremely thankful that I have straight hair and hoping that I'll pass for the purposefully messy look that seems to be in fashion at the moment.

"Are you nearly ready, Lily? There's going to be no marmalade left!" Hannah whines, knocking on the door.

I throw it open and nearly run straight into her on my way to my bed. I shove my feet into my shoes and yank my book bag off the floor, pulling it over my shoulder without bothering to check its contents, just praying that everything I need is in there. "Ready," I exclaim breathlessly.

"Finally," Quinn sighs, traipsing out the door.

"I do hope there's some marmalade left," Hannah says behind me as we cross the Common Room, genuinely worried.

"If there's not, it's Lily's fault," Quinn says.

I shake my head as we turn into the corridor outside Gryffindor tower and head for the Great Hall. "Why is it all _my _fault?"

"Because you're the one that slept in!" Hannah says.

"Yeah, and we are such _lovely, caring _friends that rather than let you sleep in and miss breakfast and possibly class we stayed behind ourselves to ensure you got up and ready," Quinn says as though this is the kindest, most friendly thing anyone has ever done for anyone else.

"Oh yes," I reply, rolling my eyes. "So kind of you to push me out of bed. Couldn't imagine a lovelier wake up call."

"I can imagine a few." James has seemingly appeared from nowhere to fall into step beside me, and I jump sideways into Quinn at his sudden presence.

"Isn't it a bit of a stretch for a mind as tiny as yours to imagine anything?" I snap, annoyed at how much he's startled me. To make matters worse, he once again looks entirely well presented and dashingly handsome.

Rather than hurting him, my insult seems to have the opposite effect. He grins at me sideways and says, "You'd be amazed at what my mind can imagine, Evans. It's quite impressive, really. For instance, I can imagine a point in the not so distant future when you'll realise that you're madly in love with me and wonder what it was that ever possessed you to be such a bitch to me."

His words make me draw in a sharp intake of breath, and it takes all of my willpower to not stop walking and slap him fair across the face. I try to keep my voice level as I reply coldly, "That _is _impressive. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard anything more fanciful and impossible in my life. Bravo."

"So much denial," Quinn sighs, and I elbow her in the ribs. "Ow, watch it!" She gasps, shoving me away from her - and into James.

Before I can regain my footing he's grabbed my arm to steady me, and the way his fingers are curled so securely around my forearm is making my pulse flutter against my wrist and _oh_, I really hope he can't see it. My friends keep walking, but James and I have stopped and my side is pressed to his chest, my eyes level with his lips, his cologne clouding my senses, and my muscles seem to have frozen up.

"Watch your step, Evans," James says quietly, and I watch his lips curl up with amusement.

I regain motor control and yank my arm away, stepping backwards and lifting my chin haughtily. "You should watch _your _step, Potter," I reply pathetically, unable to think of a better comeback.

"This from the girl who just tripped over her own feet."

I scowl at him. "I did not -"

"So you just wanted an excuse to hug me; I knew it!" James gives me a lopsided grin.

"Why would I ever want to hug you?" I'm grateful now that I put on foundation, because hopefully it's disguising the angry flush I can feel spreading over my cheeks. I wish I wasn't such a pale red-head, all of my emotions show so easily.

"Denial won't help your case, love."

"Don't call me that!"

James could not look more cocky if he tried. "The truth making you uncomfortable, is it, love?"

"It's not the truth," I spit. "Your presence alone is enough to make anyone uncomfortable."

"Now, now, you can't blame people for getting flustered by my attractiveness."

He's so absolutely ridiculous I can't even handle it. I march away down the corridor, positively fuming at James for being a douche and my friends for deserting me. Unfortunately James catches up to me in a few strides.

"Aw, come on, Evans, don't be so grumpy. I know you're not a morning person, but really -"

"I am not grumpy because it's early in the morning!" I exclaim, trying to speed up enough to get away from him. "I am grumpy because you're being horrible to me."

"How am I being horrible to you?" James questions, and I can hear genuine hurt in his voice.

"You're being so confusing! We've done nothing but fight for years, and then out of nowhere you suddenly decide you want to take me to the ball. Then you pick a fight with me in detention yesterday, and now you're stalking me and trying to hit on me at _eight in the bloody morning_and I cannot deal with it, Potter," I say in a huge rush.

"I knew it was because of the early hour," he says simply.

A low growl comes from the back of my throat and I speed up even more, but he grabs my wrist to pull me back to him. "Let me go," I say, in my most steady and deadly of voices. He obeys, but I can see on his face that there's something he wants to say.

Just before I lose my already thin patience and turn away, he says slowly, "When you turned me down on Monday, you told me to persist-"

"I didn't mean it like that," I say exasperatedly.

"But you said it, and I am persisting, Evans, because I really do want to go to the ball with you." For once he sounds completely serious.

"But I don't know if I want to go with you, Potter," I tell him.

There's a pause before he replies, and when he does we've nearly caught up with Hannah and Quinn. But then, to my surprise, his whole face lights up. "Aha! You _don't know _if you want to go with me," he repeats.

I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering where he's going with this. "Yes, that's what I said…?"

"You didn't say that you _don't _want to go with me," he explains gleefully. "Which means that there's a chance you do, and I think that it's a big chance. So I'm going to keep persisting until you come to your senses and say yes."

"He's really not joking," Hannah chimes in helpfully from in front of us.

"Thank you for that, lovely friend," I say sarcastically. I turn back to the boy now skipping along beside me and begin to tell him that he's crazy, but then Quinn pushes open the doors to the Great Hall and I'm immediately interrupted.

Sirius slams his cup down onto the table and calls out at full volume, "Finally! Where the bloody hell have you lot been?" He succeeds in getting the attention of almost everyone in the Great Hall, which looks to be filled with just about the entire student body, and I feel the weight of everyone's eyes shifting from him to us.

"Just enjoying a leisurely stroll down to breakfast, Sirius! I hope you've left us some food, you dog," James calls back, revelling in the attention.

"I can't make any promises, I'm a growing boy," Sirius replies.

"Growing outwards, from the looks of it," Remus adds, and there's scattered laughter from around the hall, including from Hannah, who gives a tinkering little laugh full of affection.

"Oh!" Sirius puts a hand to his heart and leans backwards as though he's been shot. "You're so jealous of my smashing good looks that you're resorting to fat jokes; I never thought you'd stoop so low, mate."

I glance at James. "I'm surprised you and Black can be friends."

"You're right, Evans," he replies loud enough for the entire hall to hear, "You'd think that two people so handsome would compete with each other, but Sirius knows he'd lose that fight and it's not worth risking my amazing friendship."

"Do I hear a challenge?" Sirius stands up on his seat, and if there was anyone in the hall who'd managed to ignore the scene so far he had their attention now. Remus is the only person who keeps on eating his breakfast as though nothing is happening, which is an impressive feat as Sirius is pretty close to kicking his cereal right off the table.

"Actually, I was wondering how it's possible that both of your fat heads can fit in the same room at once," I clarify just as loudly, earning entertained cat calls from across the dining hall.

James cracks up laughing, but Sirius turns his over-the-top indignation to me. "I find that highly offensive!" He yells, pointing straight at me.

"Sit down, Sirius," Remus says, finally looking up at him. There's a bemused smile on his face and I wonder how it is that he puts up with these immature prats.

"Aren't you going to defend my honour?" Sirius pouts down at him.

"You have no honour, Black," Quinn says smartly.

He looks to her with a seductively raised eyebrow. "Good morning to you, Quinn. You're looking radiant -" I look at Quinn, who just rolls her eyes, and we start walking down the hall to get some food, Hannah behind us laughing quietly, hoping that the boys will let the scene die down; but Sirius's obnoxiously loud voice makes me stop dead in my tracks. "Have you admitted to your crush on James yet, Evans?"

A wave of whispers breaks out at this, and I feel the horrible sensation of humiliation wash over me as I slowly turn around to look at Sirius. He's still standing on his chair, but now he's waggling an eyebrow at me and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I manage to say through gritted teeth.

Sirius doesn't reply, because the whispers racing around the hall are so loud now that he knows there's no need. He's got the rumour mill started, and there's nothing I can do to stop it now.

"Lily," Hannah grabs my elbow and tries to pull me away to sit down, but it feels like my feet are rooted to the ground. "Come on, sit down. Don't listen to them, they're being idiots."

"Yeah, you know that no one will believe it," Quinn says supportively, taking my other arm.

"You believe it," I say quietly.

They look at each other, panicked. I still can't move. My eyes lock on James's, and for a moment we just stare at each other. _Fix this,_ I think, trying to will him to understand, _please, fix this. _And then, to my amazement, James pushes a boy off the bench in front of him and jumps up so that he's standing directly opposite Sirius.

"Sirius, my dear fellow, look at how you've bewildered Evans," he says, and the hall immediately goes quiet as everyone listens to see what big secret is going to be revealed next. He runs a hand through his hair. "The poor girl has no idea what's going on."

"She doesn't?" Sirius asks, but he sounds more amused than intrigued.

"She doesn't?" Quinn and Hannah echo either side of me, and I elbow them both in the ribs.

"Of course she doesn't!" James says confidently, waving a hand in my direction. My stomach flips nervously. "You've got it all muddled up. Then again, we can't expect you to keep track of things too well, what with you being a complete idiot and all -"

"Harsh words, Prongs, harsh words," Sirius tuts.

"I speak only the truth," James smiles broadly. "And you have managed to fuck things up entirely. Because, as I told you the other night – in confidence, might I add – today was the today I was going to ask Evans to go to the Spring Ball with me."

At this revelation the crowd starts whispering again, and quite a few girls moan in complaint. One even yells out, "Her? _Really?_"

James doesn't seem put out by the crowd. "Yes, her," he insists, looking in my direction before turning back to Sirius. "I was going to tell her how much I adore her; I have no idea how she feels about me -"

"I think she hates you," one of our classmates yell out, and quite a few people laugh.

James seems to be getting more serious as he goes on, speaking to the whole hall but looking only at me, "Well, hate is a very strong word, and I hope she doesn't hate me. But she very well might, after the stunt you've just pulled," here he points at Sirius. "Honestly, Black, the lengths you'll go to just to embarrass me. There was no need to drag Evans into it."

"Immature," Remus chimes in, and I can tell that he's genuinely annoyed now.

"I thought that everyone might enjoy breakfast and a show," Sirius says, not showing any remorse.

"Would you get down before a teacher walks in?" Remus says impatiently. "Both of you!"

"Fine, fine," Sirius sighs and jumps down, sliding back into his spot beside Remus. "Show's over, folks, go back to your normal business!"

James steps down and starts walking over to his friends, and I give him an appreciative smile when he meets my eye. He winks at me and smiles back, and with a sigh of relief I turn around again to finally get something to eat.

"Well, are you going to answer him?" A girl from the other end of the hall calls out, her hands cupped around her mouth to amplify the question.

"Answer what?" I ask, starting to panic again as I become the centre of everyone's focus.

"Are you going to go to the ball with him or not?" A girl from our Herbology class clarifies. "If James gave _me _roses I'd go to the ball with him."

"I- uh- I, well, I need time to think about it -" I stutter.

"That's a no!" A boy calls out, and then a chorus of jealous girls from all over the hall starts shouting.

"I can't believe you're turning him down!"

"What's wrong with you?"

"He's gorgeous!"

"I'll go with you, James!"

I can't stay here a moment longer. I have to get out, or I'm going to kill someone. I can't bring myself to look at James as I run pass him, because I know that all I'll see is disappointment. I hear Hannah and Quinn calling out to me, but I ignore them and run straight out of the hall, up a flight of stairs and turn sharply into an empty classroom. I don't even know where I am, all I know is that it's quiet and I'm alone.

Or so I thought.

"Evans." It's James, standing in the doorway, eyebrows knitted together with worry. "Evans, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," I say quickly, and even to my own ears my tone obviously contradicts my words.

"It's not fine," James persists, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "It's not fine, and I am so sorry that it happened."

"No, you're right. It's not fine, not at all." I want to sound furiously angry, but all that I can muster is bitter humiliation. "Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

James cautiously walks towards me, and as I perch myself on the edge of the professor's desk he leans against it, beside me. "I was dragged into it too, you know."

"But you love attention! You were so calm, you totally took control of the situation and you just laughed the whole thing off and I- I ran out of there nearly in tears!" I cradle my head in my hands sadly.

I turn it sideways to peek out at James when he starts laughing. "I don't love attention like that, Evans."

"Like what?"

"Attention that isn't created by me. Sirius started that scene, and I did the best I could to control it and divert attention, but I certainly didn't enjoy it." There's a lengthy pause, and then he adds, "I didn't like seeing you upset. That's why I got up on that bench in the first place; I was hoping I could shut Sirius up and get you to stop looking at me with those giant puppy dog eyes of yours."

"Puppy dog eyes?"

He was looking down at his hands, but as I lift my head he moves his gaze to me. "Yeah. You were just staring at me with those big green eyes of yours, and you looked so… so _upset_, I just- I had to do something. I couldn't stand seeing you like that."

"Funny of you to say that, considering you've upset me more times on your own than everyone else at this school combined," I mutter.

"I'm sorry, Evans," he repeats.

I hold his gaze, and everything about him seems so sincere that I feel myself starting to melt. I'm not ready to let him get away with everything yet though.

"My eyes are blue, you know."

He leans forward a little bit. "No, they're definitely green."

"I'm pretty sure I know my own eye colour. They're blue."

He's so close that if I were to lean forward just the tiniest bit, our lips would touch –

"I think that I see your eyes more than you do, and they're green," he says quietly.

"Not all of us walk around trying to look at ourselves in every reflective surface we pass," I say, but my voice is so low and breathy now that the insult completely loses its power. "They're blue."

"Sea-green." I can actually feel his words on my lips as he says them, he's that close now. Oh my god, he smells delicious.

"Sea-blue."

"Same thing."

"Hardly."

Whatever colour my eyes are, they're drifting shut as I lean in to close the gap between us, irrationally and insatiably drawn to James's lips.

"Lily," he breathes, and I can almost taste my name as he says it –

And then there's a loud bang and we jump apart suddenly, the moment completely shattered. The door has swung open and Professor Jameson, our Muggle Studies teacher, is standing there, blinking at us bewilderedly from behind his round spectacles. "Uh- Hello there, Miss Evans, Mr Potter," he says awkwardly.

We quickly jump away from his desk and mumble our apologies, skirting around him and out of the room. Half of me wants to burst out laughing, and the other half wants to run back to my dorm and hide under the covers forever.

"What a mortifying morning," I gasp out in the hall.

James smiles down at me kindly and runs a hand through his hair. "Evans, listen -"

But it's time for first period, and I suddenly lose my nerve. "I have to go to class," I say quickly, terrified of what he was going to say, "I'm really sorry, Potter, and- and thank you, again, for what you did this morning, I appreciate it, really. Sorry!"

I disappear into the crowd of students making their way to class, trying to ignore the hurt on James's face and the rumours I can hear everyone whispering about us as I hurry by them. This is going to be a long, long, day.

* * *

**a.n. **Thank you for all of the reviews! The favourites and alerts are lovely too, thank you everyone.

This is set at the end of their sixth year, so they're both sixteen years old.**  
**Yeah, I already said this was Alternate Universe because of a few slight details, so I'm just going to lay them out now:  
- I'm not making any mention of Lily being a prefect just because it doesn't fit with the story.  
- I don't like writing Peter, because whenever I do he just turns out like a walking cliche, so in this story he just... doesn't exist. Which means that, in this universe, everyone gets a happy ending. Yay!  
- Some of the names of Professors and students may not be canon for the time period, and some of them are OC.  
- I don't think the Marauder Era had a ball. I think that was just because of the TriWizard Tournament, which I obviously am not writing about. But there's a ball happening in this story because balls are awesome and come on, who could resist the Marauders in formal gear?  
- And the eye colour thing is just my own slight jab at the movie universe going on about, "Harry, you have your mother's eyes" when Harry so obviously has blue eyes and Lily so prominently has green ones. I know that it was just because Daniel had a reaction to contacts, but it's mildly amusing none the less.

I don't think I'll be able to get another update done before I have to go back to exam study, but I'll try.  
Please review and let me know what you think!


	6. Love notes

**Love notes.**

I have Charms first period on Thursday mornings, and normally it's one of my favourite classes, along with Potions. But I'm so scattered today that I'm five minutes late and by the time I get there I have to walk up the aisle of occupied desks to the only empty seat all the way in the front row, trying not to blush as everyone stares at me. As soon as I sit down my classmates start whispering, and even though I do my best to ignore them it takes all of my strength not to just stand up and leave.

If only Hannah and Quinn had just let me stay in bed.

"Miss Evans, nice of you to join us," Professor Flitwick says, looking down at me with eyebrows arched with surprise. I'm always on time to his classes.

"Sorry I'm late," I mumble, looking at the wand in his hands rather than his eyes.

"Try not to make it a habit," he warns. I nod silently, too humiliated to say anything further, and he continues, "We're on page three ninety four of the textbook."

He turns back to the chalkboard and with a flick of his wand the chalk continues writing up notes, and I begin shuffling quietly through my book bag for my Charms textbook. But it's not in there. It should be here, though… I begin to panic as I rifle through my books again, double checking the titles on their spines. Why is my Charms book not in here? I'm certain I had it yesterday! I came straight from Charms to Detention and -

Detention.  
Where I put all of my books on the table in a pile, because I didn't want to be late and so carried them from Charms in my arms rather than wasting time putting them back in my bag. And then James came along and put _his _books on top of mine. He must have picked up my Charms textbook with his when he left early.

Great.

"Is everything okay there, Miss Evans?" Professor Flitwick asks, and I pull my arms out of my bag and sit bolt upright.

"Yes, everything's fine. Sorry," I say quickly, even though I'm not sure what I'm even apologising for.

I grab out my parchment and a quill and start copying down the notes off the board, writing down the page references from the textbook so I can read through it later, when I've got it back from James. Even though talking to him is the last thing I feel like doing, it seems like fate keeps throwing us back together.

And as fate would have it, when I exit my Charms class I spot his unruly head of hair down the corridor, heading towards the staircase leading to the third floor.

"Potter!" I call out without thinking, but he doesn't turn around. I start weaving through the crowd, side-stepping and dancing past people who are blocking my path and walking far too slowly. I'm getting dirty looks from the students I narrowly avoid hitting, but I don't care. "Potter!" He still doesn't stop, and by now he's on the bottom steps of the staircase, so I call out again, "Potter, please, wait up!"

Finally, he reacts. He stops and turns around, forcing the crowd to part around him, and a smile tweaks the corners of his lips when he sees me. "Evans," he says brightly when I catch up to him.

I'm standing two steps below him, and he looks a lot more intimidating from down here. "Potter, I'm sorry to interrupt you," I say, my breathing slightly more laboured than usual.

"Don't worry about it. I was hoping I'd see you again, actually."

"You were?"

"Yeah," he pauses and rubs the back of his neck. "After this morning…"

This morning. Of course he'd want to talk about the fact we nearly kissed. The one topic I desperately want to avoid, and I've chased him down a crowded corridor calling his name. Of course he's going to think that's what I want to talk about. I clear my throat and glance away uncomfortably, trying to think of how to handle the situation. The students whispering about us as they pass aren't helping the awkwardness.

"Actually, I was wondering," I begin delicately, "uh, I- I think you may have grabbed my Charms book yesterday." Confusion clouds his features, so I continue speaking, stumbling over my words in my haste to fill the awkward silence, "Accidentally. In detention, when you put your books on top of mine. I, um, I can't find it in my book bag and I swear that's where it should be, but as it's not there I thought you might have grabbed it by mistake."

"I might have," he concedes, pulling his own book bag around his torso and rummaging through it. He pulls a relatively thick, light blue tome from it and holds it up for me to see. "This it?"

I sigh with relief and reach out for it. "Yes, it is, thank goodness."

To my surprise, James moves the book back and holds it just out of my reach. He raises an eyebrow at me and I'm irritated to notice that his all too familiar smirk is back. "Nothing for free, love. What are you going to give me in return?"

"Nothing for free?" I splutter, "It's my bloody book, all you're doing is giving it back!"

"I don't _have_ to give it back, though," he teases.

"You would if you were a decent human being!"

"And how many times have you proclaimed my indecency, Evans?"

I step up to the same stair as him, so that even though I'm still shorter there's not as much of a height difference. "Give me back my book."

"What's the magic word?" He's grinning like this is tremendous fun, and I'm just getting more and more frustrated. The corridors are mostly empty now, with the majority of people already in their second period classes, and I can't stand the thought of being late to another lesson.

"Abracadabra," I say sarcastically. He laughs and rocks back on his heels, shaking his head. I roll my eyes. "_Please," _I say pleadingly, willing to let him think he's winning whatever this game is if he'll just give me back my book.

"Correct," he says, but he doesn't move to return it to me.

"Well?" I hold out my hand expectantly.

"Oh, that wasn't it," he laughs.

I fold my arms across my chest and narrow my eyes at him. "This isn't funny, Potter. You're making me late to class."

His eyes have moved from my face to my chest. "When you cross your arms like that, it makes your boobs look fantastic," he says unashamedly.

I hurriedly drop my arms to my sides, completely disbelieving that anyone could switch from so sweet to so crass in the space of a few hours. "You're so immature!"

"Do you want your book back?" He asks, and for a moment I think he's being genuine and will just give it back to me.

"No, I'm just hanging around for the stimulating conversation," I snap sarcastically. "Of course I want my book back! Don't make me hex you for it, Potter."

His face suddenly goes serious, his hazel eyes boring into mine. "Will you come to the ball with me?"

I groan and smack my head into my hands in frustration. "No, Potter! No, I will not go to the fucking ball with you because you're blackmailing me!" I throw my arms out to the side and yell, "When are you going to get it through your thick head that I don't like you?"

Rather than yelling, he takes the opposite approach and leans down so that his face is centimetres from mine before breathing quietly, "You seemed to like me quite a lot this morning, when you were about to kiss me."

I hiss, "_You _tried to kiss _me_. And notice how you didn't succeed?"

I can tell that I've hit a nerve, because when he speaks again there's some of the venom that was so common in our past fights in his voice. "Don't try and pretend like you didn't want to kiss me this morning, Evans. You can keep trying to lie to yourself, but I can see you blushing, I can feel your pulse racing, and I can see it in your eyes."

I pull a disgusted face and step backwards. "Just give me my book, Potter."

He shoves the book into my hands with such force that I lose my balance and fall down a stair. So quickly that it must be reflexive, James steps forward and curls his fingers around my arms to stop me from tripping over. There's a pause, where neither of us move, and when I look down at his hands gripping my forearms I can see his pulse beating at his wrist. I feel my own heartbeat pick up, but then, just as quickly, he lets me go and steps away.

"Thank you," I say patronisingly, clutching the book to my chest self consciously.

James smiles at me sarcastically and starts walking up the stairs. He runs a hand through his hair forcefully, and I catch myself before I can smile at the habit. How could I ever have feelings for this idiot boy? What a joke! Just as I go to head back downstairs he turns back around to look at me, and in my peripheral vision I see a pained look cross his face before he waves a hand dismissively and practically jogs up to the third floor.

And now I'm late to Potions. Thanks a lot, Potter.

When I scamper in to the dungeon I'm glad to see that Quinn has saved me a seat, and I slide into it unnoticed by anyone but her. "Where have you been?" she asks in a whisper.

"Potter stole my book," I answer. I grab my Potions book out of my bag and plonk it down on top of my Charms book on the desk.

"He _stole your book_?" she asks disbelievingly.

I nod, scribbling down the extra instructions for the potions we're meant to be working on. I glance sideways to see that Quinn hasn't even opened her book, or got out any of the ingredients. "Yeah, my Charms textbook."

"What a crack up," she laughs softly.

I gape at her. "How is that funny?"

"It's hilarious, Lily. The guy is that desperate for your attention, he'd get you the bloody moon if he thought it'd get you to talk him."

"He seems to want me to yell at him."

"You do look very attractive when you're angry," Quinn nods wisely.

Professor Slughorn interrupts our conversation, and even though his words are strict there's a twinkle in his eye. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class, girls?"

We shake our heads no. "Sorry, sir."

When his attention is diverted, Quinn turns her blue eyes back on me. "So what happened?"

"What do you mean, 'what happened'? I realised he'd grabbed my book when we were in detention, and then I came out of Charms and he was walking past, so I yelled out and asked for my book back and he- he turned into some stupid game, teasing me and asking me to go to the ball with him." I scrunch up my nose and sigh. "I just wish he wasn't so -"

Quinn interrupts, "Dashingly handsome? Hilariously funny? Charmingly witty? Very intelligent?"

I growl at her. "He isn't any of those!"

"Aw, you can't deny he's pretty cute, and he always manages to get a laugh," Quinn disagrees. "And did you see his OWL scores? The boy may not pay attention in class, but he's either banging a professor or a total genius."

"Definitely banging a professor."

We break into a fit of giggles, earning a disapproving, "Shush!" from the Slytherins sitting in front of us.

When we've recovered I say, "No, I just wish he wasn't so… pushy."

"You did tell him to insist," Quinn says, finally opening her book.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Quinn laughs. "I know you didn't, it's just so fun to see you all fired up. I can see why Potter enjoys antagonising you."

I throw a quill at her. "You're just as bad."

"So why don't you have screaming matches with me?"

I grab the end of her brunette ponytail and rub it against the tip of her nose. "Because I love you," I say cutely. "And I most certainly do _not _love James Potter." Quinn grabs her hair and tosses it over her shoulder, eyeing me as though she's trying to decipher something. I smile reassuringly. "Trust me, I don't have any feelings for Potter, apart from extreme loathing."

She reaches out and grabs my Charms book before I can stop her, causing my Potions textbook to drop to the desk and hit the edge of my cauldron with a loud thud. I try to grab the Charms book back off her, but she turns away and holds it in front of her, saying, "Do you think he did anything to it?"

"What do you mean?" I reach it for it but she just moves it further away.

"I mean, do you think he did anything to it before you came to get it off him?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't think he even realised he had it before I asked for it back."

"Hm." Quinn lays it down and goes to open the cover, swatting my hand away.

I start to protest, but before I can finish my sentence a folded up piece of parchment falls out of the pages. There's a brief pause before we both scramble for it, swatting each other's hands. I manage to yank the paper out of her hands and hold it away, trying to disguise how nervous I am to see what it says.

"I told you!" Quinn says excitedly. "Go on then, open it. You scratched me for it, you obviously want to know what it says."

I look down at the paper, so plain and innocent looking, and then back at Quinn. "It's probably nothing and we really should finish this potion, I might as well just read it later," I say unconvincingly.

She purses her ruby red lips at me. "If you don't open it, I will hex you and just read it myself."

I sigh in defeat and turn the parchment away so that only I can read it. I unfold it and painstakingly flatten it out between my hands, procrastinating, before lifting it up to read. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but what James's written makes my lips curl up into a sincere smile.

_Evans,  
Roses are red,  
your eyes are not blue,  
and even though I could take anyone,  
I'm still asking you.  
– James._

I blink at his messy, loopy scrawl, feeling even more scattered than I did before. It's just like James to be so damn conceited and yet somehow make it sound sweet and romantic. It's so hard to figure out how much of what he says is genuine and how much is just a show. I reflect back on our encounters, but find myself getting more confused as I remember how tenderly he whispers my name, the way he gives me that lopsided smile when he sees me for the first time that day, the hurt on his face every time I turn him down, the security of his hand on my arm as I fall. But then there's also the years and years of arguments, of petty fights and violent screaming matches, pushes and slaps and shoves and hexes and duels and… and fiery passion.

Oh no, what am I thinking?

"What does it say?" Quinn asks impatiently, going to snatch it from my hands.

I lean backwards. "Nothing! It says nothing."

"It does not, liar. Let me see, I found it!"

I try to fend her off, but she grabs the parchment anyway, and I watch her eyes goes wide as she reads James's words. "Oh, Merlin, Lily. He really must fancy you if he's taken to writing horrible, corny poetry." I sigh, but don't respond. "Aw, come on, just say yes to the poor guy. You're obviously killing him."

"I would, if he didn't just constantly swap between being a nice guy and being a complete prat."

"Are there any more notes?" Quinn asks, completely ignoring my response. She grabs my Charms book and tips it upside down, shaking it, and sure enough, another half a dozen or so folded up pieces of parchment fall out onto her table. "Merlin's beard, how many did he write?"

We both stare at them in shock for a minute before I hurriedly scoop them into my book bag. "I'll read them later, when there's not a chance I'll get caught by a professor," I say, grabbing the original note off her.

"I have to be there," she tells me. "I must persist -"

I purse my lips and blow out a stream of air to stop myself from punching her. "Fine."

She smiles contentedly, and thankfully lets it go for the rest of the morning. By the time we're let out for lunch, however, she can barely contain herself. It's raining, so once we've met up with Hannah in the dining hall and had something to eat, we head up to our dorm and settle on Hannah's bed, our legs folded up beneath us.

"What if someone walks in?" I ask, chewing my bottom lip.

Quinn answers simply, "We tell them to go away. Stop wasting time and show Hannah!"

When I tip the notes out onto the bed Hannah squeals with excitement. "Oh, my gosh, how _sweet! _I can't believe he wrote all these for you!"

"I haven't read them yet, they could be hate notes," I mutter.

"This is the first one," Quinn tells Hannah, plucking the largest square of parchment from the pile and passing it to her. "And, judging from that, there's not going to be any hate notes in here."

Unfortunately, Quinn's right; all of the notes are just as sweet and corny as the first one we found.

_The fiery red of your hair matches the fire you ignite in my soul. _

_Dear clumsy Evans,  
You may fall from a broom,  
you may fall from a tree,  
but the best place for you to fall  
is in love (or in bed!)  
with me.  
- A hopeful James._

I will fight for you until the day those enchanted roses die.

_Can we dance real slow, and can I hold you close?_

_I promise that I'll give you a night you'll never forget._

"This one sounds vaguely threatening," I say, waving the last one in the air.

Hannah turns her head sideways to read what it says and pokes her tongue out. "Or incredibly sexual."

Quinn collapses backward and breaks out into a fit of giggles before singing, "Lily and James, sitting in a tree! F-U-C-K-I-N-G!"

I smother her face in a pillow before she can sing any more. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

But she thrashes away and keeps singing, "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage!" Even though the words are muffled as I jump on top of her and try to make her stop she sounds positively gleeful.

"You know resisting only makes it worse," Hannah laughs.

I jump up and run across to my own bed, jumping onto the bare mattress and pulling my covers up from the floor and over my head. "Lalalala, I can't hear you!" I sing back.

"Oh, Lily, you're no fun," Quinn sighs.

The feeling of something scratching my thigh distracts me from answering, and in the dark I curl my fingers around a piece of paper that's gotten hooked on a stray thread of my skirt. I wriggle down and poke my head out from under the blanket, facing away from the girls, hoping that they can't see my emergence. They've taken to reciting the notes I left over there to each other in Shakespearean accents, so I don't think they're paying too much attention to me right now. I unfold the note and see James's now familiar handwriting;

_Lily, suddenly I'm feeling brave. I don't know what's got into me, or why I feel this way. All I know is that as soon as I saw those hideous posters for the formal, I just had to ask you, and I'm going to keep asking until you say the right answer. I know that you want to dance with me, love, and I know that you'll admit it soon enough. Just give me a chance. – James. _

My heart beats against my ribcage as my head spins. Damn James and his sweet, creepy little notes!

"Hey guys," I turn onto my back and lift my head to peer at my friends. Hannah is kneeling on the bed with a hand pressed to her heart, and Quinn is hanging from one of the posts with her arm flung out, one of James's notes in her hand. "What time is it?"

"Probably time to head back down to class," Hannah says, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed.

"Ergh, do we have to?" Quinn complains. "Acting out James and Lily's courtship is so much more fun."

"_What _courtship?" I shuffle back down under my covers and shove the last note in my pocket before sliding out onto the floor and running my hands over my hair.

"Okay, acting out Lily turning James down, then." Quinn leaps down off her bed and hikes her skirt up when she lands. "Party pooper."

I nod brightly as I straighten up my uniform, double checking that James's note is still tucked safely in my pocket. "Much better."

* * *

**a.n. **So, these chapters have turned out a lot longer and more detailed than I first intended. But hey, I just really love these characters.  
Thank you to everyone who's reviewing, you're absolutely amazing and I adore you all so much!  
Unfortunately this is my last update for a little bit more than a fortnight, because I have exams, and then I'm on an internet-less holiday and then I'm in hospital for a minor surgery. But I promise I'll be back and updating as soon as I can; please leave me lots of lovely reviews, the more reviews I get the faster I'll recover!


	7. Hannah and Remus

**Hannah and Remus.**

Hannah and Remus are kind of the quintessential teen couple, I think as they walk through the doors of the library. Hannah's fluttering her hands about in front of her as she talks about something (probably to do with the ball, judging from the light in her brown eyes), completely lost in her thoughts, and Remus is just watching her out of the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. They're not holding hands or anything, but they're walking perfectly in step with each other and every now and again their elbows will knock as Hannah makes a particularly dramatic sweeping gesture with her arm, and Remus's smile will broaden. Where her brunette curls are bouncing wildly against the back of her neck, vying for escape from the elastic tie she's managed to wrangle them into, his dark blonde hair is neatly styled, and both of them are wearing their uniforms immaculately, book bags swung over their shoulders; multiple pins adorn Hannah's, most of them for bands, and one lone white pin stands out against the black of Remus's bag. They're their own people, definitely, but just looking at them you can tell they belong together.

"Afternoon, Lily," Remus greets as they reach the table I'm sitting at. "How are you?"

"Alright, thanks," I reply, pulling a book across the table top towards me so there's space for him to sit opposite me. "Yourself?"

"Slightly daunted by the idea of this ball." He sits down and drops his book bag at his feet.

Hannah takes the seat beside him, clunking her own bag onto the table top with exasperated force. "You will be _fine_," she says in a tone that makes me think it's not the first time she's said that phrase today. "Honestly, Remus, I don't see what you're so worried about."

"It's a _dance_," he says, grabbing his Charms textbook, a scroll of parchment and his quill out of his bag and neatly arranging them on the desk. "I don't _dance_."

"But you do." I point the end of my pen at him. "Remember last years Christmas party, when you drank that fire whiskey and Sirius convinced you to -"

"We do not talk about that night!" He cuts me off, embarrassment already tinging his cheeks. "Aren't we here to study?"

I flip the page of my book with a sigh. "Unfortunately."

The library is almost completely deserted, even emptier than it normally is on Friday lunchtimes, with only a handful of Seventh Year students studying for their NEWTS. It's a really nice day outside, so all of the younger kids are out enjoying the sun, and everyone in our year is organising the final details for the ball Sunday night. My stomach churns uncomfortably as I realise that while everyone else is putting the finishing touches on their plans, I don't even have any.

My face must show something of my thoughts, because Hannah says, "Lily, are you okay? You look as sick at the thought of studying as Remus does at the idea of dancing."

I shake my head, and then quickly nod. "No –yes, I mean, I'm fine."

Hannah crinkles her eyebrows in concern, but doesn't say anything more. She grabs out what she needs to study and wiggles in her seat, attempting to get comfortable. Remus smiles at her, and it's just a small little smile that quirks up one side of his mouth more than the other, and she doesn't even notice, because she's too focused on making sure her skirt hasn't ridden up. But it's meaningful, that one little affectionate smile. It's almost like he can't believe that he's got someone so adorable, as though he's looking at Hannah and thinking that's all he needs to make him smile; just her presence, nothing more.

"Remus, have you spoken to Potter since yesterday?" I ask, unable to catch the words before they spill out in a rush.

He blinks at me once, his brown eyes wary, before glancing at Hannah. She opens her mouth as though to say something to me, but then stops herself and nods silently to her boyfriend.

"I have," he says carefully.

"And?" I press, leaning forward.

"And what?" he asks, and I notice his fingers curling and uncurling the corner of his parchment, a nervous habit.

I struggle to contain my anticipation. "And did he say anything about me?"

There's a pause, where I can hear Hannah's foot tapping against the table leg and my own pulse beating in my ears, and when Remus speaks again it's slowly, as though he's considering every word. "He might have mentioned something about you-"

"Yes?"

He swallows once, and says, "Look, Lily, I really think we should get this homework done -"

"Remus," I level my gaze on him and say quietly, "Please. Just tell me what Potter said. And then we can study until your heart's content, I promise."

He shifts in his seat and I see him reach for Hannah's hand under the table. "Well, he might have called you a psychotic bitch," he mumbles.

"He called me _what?_"

That insensitive, foul, insufferable git, how dare he go around calling me names?

Hannah shakes her head. "You didn't feel like censoring it at all, babe?"

Remus shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, Lily, but you asked -"

I push my hair back off my forehead and lean both elbows on the table. "Yes, I suppose I did. Please continue."

"Well, that's about it, really. He said he had one last thing to try, and that if it didn't work he didn't know what he'd do."

"One last thing?" I repeat.

Remus nods. "That's what he said."

I blink at the white badge pinned to Remus's bag; a brown owl with its wings spread in front of a city skyline, framed by a blue sky and yellow sand. My mouth feels dry when I say, "So he's going to give up? Just like that?"

Hannah scoffs a little. "'Just like that?' Lily, darling, I would say that he's been pretty persistent -"

"But –you know what I mean," I sigh, dragging my eyes off the badge to meet Hannah's eyes. "He said he was going to keep asking."

"Well it's bound to get a bit disheartening if you keep rejecting him," she says kindly, letting go of Remus's hand and reaching out for mine. She clasps it and squeezes gently.

"Do you want him to keep asking?" Remus asks.

"No," I reply automatically, without even thinking about it. Because I don't want him to, I definitely don't. It will be an absolute relief to have him stop pestering me. But for some reason when I say it I can't bring myself to look at either of them, my gaze instead drifting down to focus on a retro badge Hannah has pinned to the centre of her bag, the pride of her collection; a ninety-fifties couple, the girl wearing puff sleeves and a ribbon in her coifed hair, the boy in a collared shirt with slicked back hair, staring into each other's eyes as they waltz. No one waltzes anymore.

"Really?" Hannah asks, quiet insistence in her voice.

I lift my head with a defeated sigh. "I don't know."

Remus shuffles in his seat, but when he looks at me his eyes are completely steady. "Is he really that bad, Lily?"

"No; well, he hasn't been lately," I admit reluctantly.

Remus has a kind of maturity that makes him stand out from the other boys in our year, and he puts it to full use now, saying reasonably, "Well, if you really don't want to go to the ball with him, why don't you just tell him that?"

"I've tried, haven't I?" I say loudly, throwing my arms up and earning a shush from the severe looking librarian. "I've turned him down, multiple times, and he just keeps persisting -"

"And you keep letting him persist," Hannah cuts in.

I glare at her, somewhat unreasonably. "I do not! I don't know how else I can turn him down… I even swore it at him, yesterday."

"I think you need to talk to him," Remus says calmly. "Have a serious, mature discussion, where you explain to him why you don't want to go with him."

"But -" I falter, scrounging up reasons for why I keep turning James down. All I can think of is _because we hate each other, and that's the way it's always been –_ even though the pool of dread in my stomach suggests otherwise. "I don't think he'll want to listen."

"He'll listen to you," Remus assures me.

I huff, folding my arms over my chest and slumping down in my chair, feeling persecuted. "What makes you so sure?"

"He hangs off every word you say," Hannah says brightly.

"That doesn't mean he actually comprehends what I'm saying."

Remus says, "I think you should give him a bit more credit."

I sigh, "I'm sorry. I know he's your friend. He's just so- so _impossible_."

To my surprise, Remus laughs. "I know that better than most, Lily. Now, didn't we come in here to get this Charms homework done before the dreaded ball?"

"Don't be like that," Hannah says, smiling at him indulgingly. "You know that you'll love it when you're there."

"If you say so, dear," he says flatly, but he can't stop himself from smiling.

We work all the way through lunch, and when it ends I'm just putting the finishing touches on my essay. I put my quill down and smile triumphantly. "So glad that's done!"

Remus stretches as he stands up, looking lankier than usual. "Couldn't agree more."

Hannah, who finished fifteen minutes ago and is already packed up and ready to go, stands on tip toes to give him a peck on the cheek. "I've got to run to Muggle Studies, but I'll meet you in Herbology last period." He squeezes her with one arm before she darts over to me and envelopes me in a bear hug. "I'll see _you _in Herbology too, missy. Cheer up, buttercup!"

I can't help but laugh. "If you say so."

She smiles at us as she disappears through the doors, and Remus starts to pack up his things in silence. I breathe in deeply to gather some courage before I speak. "Remus," I begin, not daring to glance up.

"Mhmm?" He says, not slowing his packing.

"What happened to Sirius over the holidays? In the wizarding duel?"

In my peripheral vision I see his hands freeze over his quill. "What?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I saw his scar and I- well, I asked, and he told me that he was in a duelling accident," I reply at the same volume, hoisting my bag up onto my shoulder.

I wait for Remus to put the rest of his things away and straighten up before he replies cryptically, "You can't tell anyone."

Slightly taken aback, I assure, "Of course not, I wouldn't -"

"Not even Quinn or- or Hannah."

I don't bother to hide my surprise this time. "Or Hannah? Doesn't she know?"

Remus rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. "There are some secrets that aren't mine to tell."

"She told you I kept the roses, and you told Sirius," I say petulantly.

I can't tell if he's amused or annoyed when he replies, "It's a slightly different situation, Lily."

"How?"

He grabs my wrist and pulls me to the back of the library, behind a shelf filled with thick reference books that have gathered enough dust to suggest they haven't been moved in years. I cough as we stir up dust on the floor.

"Like I said, you can't tell anyone." There's an intensity in Remus's brown eyes that's unnerving, now. "I shouldn't be telling you."

"I already told you, I promise I won't tell a soul," I say impatiently.

"Alright…" He pauses, inhaling deeply, and then murmurs, "It wasn't a duelling accident, exactly."

"It wasn't?" I ask. He shakes his head. "What do you mean, 'exactly'?"

"It was- well, things aren't very good at home for Sirius, at the moment," Remus pauses, thinking. "Actually, things haven't been good with the Black family for a long time now. He never really goes home, because when he does it ends in disaster."

"Disaster like a scar on his face?"

Remus leans towards me conspiratorially. "Yes. You see, his mum… his mum has a few problems." Before I can ask what sort of problems, Remus continues, "What they are exactly isn't important; all you need to know is that she has a horrible temper. A violent temper. And that she thinks he's disgracing the family name, being a Gryffindor-"

I feel the colour draining from my face. "No," I gasp. "No, you don't mean that- that Sirius's own _mum _did that -"

Remus nods sadly. "First weekend of the holidays. Family dinner turned into a brawl, and Sirius… well, Sirius got off pretty lightly, considering."

"Considering _what_?"

"Considering what could have happened to him. He broke his brother's nose; to be honest it's a miracle he got out of there with only the few injuries he had."

I shake my head, horrified. "You mean there were more?"

"He copped a hex to the arm at some point… and then there was the broken cheek bone, fractured eye socket…" Remus trails off, looking almost as queasy as I feel. "It was horrible, Lily."

"I can't even imagine," I breathe.

"If James hadn't turned up when he did -"

"What?" I ask, stunned.

Remus blinks as though he's coming out of a reverie. "James knew things weren't ideal for Sirius, and when he didn't get a reply to any of his owls, he decided he'd go check on him. He knew that things had to be bad if they weren't letting him contact anyone-"

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I curl my fingers tightly around the strap of my bag. "And he joined the duel? James, I mean."

"James held the Blacks off," Remus clarifies. "Then they fled, and Sirius moved in with him."

I lean back against the dusty shelf, blinking in disbelief. "So that's why Sirius has that scar. And why he was in the hospital wing."

"He has to take pain medication; it's still not completely healed," Remus reveals.

I stare up at Remus, feeling as though my world's just been flipped upside down. "So James knew that he was probably going to get hurt, and he went to help Sirius anyway?"

Remus smiles, ever so slightly. "James was hoping to get some battle scars; He was a bit disappointed when all he got was a black eye." I gasp, horrified, and he continues seriously, "But yeah, he knew what he was getting into. He couldn't leave Sirius there, though. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he'd let anything happen. I just wish I hadn't been out of the country -"

An irritated cough from the librarian, who's appeared at the end of the row like a ghost, makes us both jump. "Shouldn't you both be in class?"

We mumble our apologies and snake our way out of the aisle to the exit, pausing when we get into the outside corridor. "I'll see you next period," Remus says.

I reach up and give him a quick hug. "Thank you for telling me, Remus."

I'm nearly at the corner when he calls out my name. I spin around to see him watching me, his face unreadable. "Don't forget to have that talk with James."

I shake my head, feeling slightly dazed. "I won't."

He nods once before turning and hurrying away to his class, but today I don't really care if I'm late for Divination, so I walk up to the tower at a leisurely pace, considering all that Remus has told me. It's almost too much to take in; the James he spoke about doesn't really sound anything like the James I know. It's hard to reconcile the James and Sirius from Remus's story with the boys I saw duelling with a breadstick at breakfast this morning. But then again… I touch my arm, where James's fingers gripped me yesterday, stopping me from falling, and exhale slowly. I'm going to talk him straight after Herbology, I decide. We're going to talk, and get this whole thing sorted out. And then everything can go back to how it's mean to be, with us hating each other. I nod firmly as I reach the stairs to the Divination tower, preparing an excuse for my lateness. Yes, we'll talk and everything will be fine. And I can forget all about this stupid ball.

* * *

**a.n. **In which Lily had not a clue about the whole 'blood-traitor' feud Sirius has with his family.  
My operation went well, and I'm at home recovering now. On some lovely painkilling drugs. Thank you to everyone who sent me well-wishes and reviews, I adore you all.  
Please let me know what you think of this chapter! And I'm sorry there wasn't as much Hannah as I had hoped, but we've barely heard from Remus and I thought he needed some more screen time.


	8. Sincerity

**Sincerity.**

I was held back in Divination to explain my late arrival (it's rather ironic, if you ask me, that a so called Seer couldn't already tell without me having to make up an excuse) and so in a nasty chain of events I end up having to run down to Herbology in order to get there in time. When I reach the greenhouse door I'm out of breath and probably look disgustingly blotchy, but I've made it before class starts, so it's worth it. I try to slow my breathing down before walking into the greenhouse, and I smile as I see Hannah sitting along the edge of the wooden table – but my smile falters when I notice the empty seat beside her. I glance across at Remus, who's perched on the next seat over, deep in conversation with a concerned looking James, who's occupying the seat beside him. I'd thought that James would want to partner with me…

"Are you feeling any better?" Hannah asks as I sit down.

"I feel fine," I reply, but I know that I sound glum.

Hannah spins on her stool to directly face me. "You don't look fine."

I mock offence, "Are you calling me ugly?"

She laughs and swats my arm. "Don't be silly. Seriously, are you okay?"

I try to give her a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Honestly. Just a little nervous about talking to Potter after class."

She worries her bottom lip, eyes going wide as she processes what that means. "So you're really going to tell him to give it up?" Her voice takes on a secretive whisper.

"Yes," I answer at a normal volume.

She leans forward, elbows propped up on the desk, and stares straight into my eyes. "And you're sure this is what you really, honestly, one-hundred-and-two percent want?"

"One-hundred-and-five percent sure."

She leans back in her chair and surveys me. "I don't know, Lily -"

"Han," I say, cutting her off before she can start lecturing me. "I _promise you, _I do not want to go to the formal with Potter. And it's not fair to him that he keeps on chasing me when he could ask any other girl, who'd jump at the chance to be his date."

"But it's just all so romantic!" She bursts out suddenly, and then blushes crimson.

I stare at her, slightly gobsmacked. "_What?_"

"It's- you know, it's all so dramatic and- and like a novel." Her eyes take on a glazed over quality as she continues dreamily, "Star-crossed lovers, a bitter feud that turns into a passionate love, the grand ball where the boy sweeps the girl off her feet…"

I let out a snort of laughter. "Hannah, you're reading too much Shakespeare. Potter and I are not star crossed lovers, and I highly doubt that he could sweep me off my feet."

"Is that another challenge?" I nearly jump out of my seat as I realise that James is listening to our conversation from Remus's other side. I'm stunned into silence, and it seems that Hannah doesn't know quite what to say, so he continues, "Because, personally, I definitely think I could sweep you off your feet, both figuratively and literally speaking."

I finally regain my voice and manage to croak out, "How long have you been eaves-dropping?"

He grins at me. "It's not eaves-dropping if you're talking loud enough for the entire class to hear, Evans," he says, eyes sparkling.

"How much did you hear?" I try again.

"Enough." He lazily examines his nails, seeming suddenly disinterested with Hannah and I. "And I think you should let Hannah indulge her little fantasy." Something in his tone is bordering on offensive.

"Little fantasy?" Hannah and I say in unison, equally bewildered.

"Star-crossed lovers and all that jazz," he says, picking at a non-existent hangnail.

"James," Remus says warningly.

"What do you mean, indulge it?" I ask warily.

He flashes me a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Come to the formal with me."

I scoff. "Potter, really -"

He turns his gaze to Hannah before I can say anymore. "See, Han. I'm sorry to tell you, but love really is just fantasy."

Hannah is indignant, slamming her small hands down onto the table. "It's not fantasy!"

"Oh, but it is. Isn't it, Evans?" Here James looks right at me, and I can see that his normally pleasant hazel eyes have taken on a stormy quality behind the smudged lenses of his glasses.

I wait for him to go on, but when he doesn't say anything more I stutter out, "No, well, I mean, in certain cases love is true -"

Hannah nods affirmatively, but James just laughs bitterly. My stomach drops when his eyes settle back on me and I see the thinly veiled hurt in them. "But not in our case, is it?" His voice is deadly calm and quiet.

I gape at him, openly shocked.

"James," Remus says again, turning to block our view of him. "Don't do this here."

"Why shouldn't I?" James replies, and I see him lift a hand and run it through his hair roughly.

"Because we're in class, and this isn't the right time." Ever reasonable, Remus speaks calmly and surely, as though his word is final.

James slumps back in his seat, seemingly defeated, and I catch a glimpse of a scowl on his face. When he turns his head to look at me, I hurriedly look straight ahead, but I know that he caught me watching him and I can feel myself blushing again.

"What was that all about?" Hannah breathes, her rosebud mouth pursed into a frown.

I shake my head, causing a few red strands of hair to fall out of my plait and brush the side of my face. "I don't know… I told you this wasn't fair on either us."

Hannah sighs. "You definitely need to talk to him."

Suddenly I can't hold my anger in anymore, and I snap, "Do you really think I should, or are you just saying that because it's what your boyfriend thinks?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth I want to take them back.

Hannah makes an offended little gasp, and blinks at me, hurt splayed across her features. "Lily!"

"Well?" I snarl, and even though I know I'm being perfectly unreasonable I can't stop myself from taking my anger out on her. "What's your answer?"

"In _my opinion_ you should talk to him," she repeats, her tone the closest to cold I've ever heard it get around me. "And I'm not saying that because Remus thinks so too, I'm saying it because you're my friend and I genuinely think that's what best for you."

"Hannah." Suddenly I'm on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry. That was unfair, I shouldn't have- I'm so sorry."

Her expression softens immediately, and when I reach for her hand she doesn't pull away. "It's okay, Lily. Just talk to him. Please."

I nod silently, watching Professor Sprout take her place at the head of the table to begin teaching.

The four of us – James, Remus, Hannah and myself – work in near-silence for the lesson, only really speaking within our pairs when we need to coordinate something for the experiment we're doing, or to swap notes. So when Professor Sprout signals the end of the school day and I squeeze past Remus to tap James's shoulder, he looks at me with unabashed surprise.

"Yes?"

"I- uhm, are you- did you have plans after class, or can-" I take a deep breath. "Can we talk?"

He smirks at me. "I believe we're both capable of producing speech, yes."

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean." He leans an elbow against the table and runs his eyes down the length of my body. I shuffle uncomfortably. "My eyes are up here, you know."

He looks up, that smirk still playing at the corners of his lips. "What would you like to talk about, Evans?"

Before I can answer, Hannah has draped an arm around my waist and is hugging me. "I'll save you a spot at dinner, okay?"

I turn around. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you soon."

"See ya later," Remus says to both James and I, raising one hand in a wave goodbye.

We both do the same, and I watch Remus take Hannah's hand in his own as they leave the greenhouse. It's not until we've filed out after everyone else and we're standing in the open grounds, away from anyone that could overhear us, that I turn back to James. He's watching me expectantly, all of the hostility he displayed at the start of the lesson gone.

"So what did you so urgently want to talk about?"

"I never said it was urgent," I mutter. "I- I wanted to talk to you about the ball."

"I'd say that's a little bit urgent, considering it's only two days away," James says. When I narrow my eyes at him he smiles. "So what about the ball is it you want to discuss? Have you finally fallen for my charm and come to your senses? Are you actually going to say yes?" He's speaking with exaggerated joy, but I can see the genuine hope in his eyes.

Professor Sprout opens the door to the greenhouse behind us, and I instinctively curl my fingers around James's wrist and pull him around the corner to a narrow, empty corridor of grass between Greenhouses Two and Three. There's not much room, and even as I press my back against the rounded glass wall my toes nearly touch James's. He's looking down at me, one eyebrow quirked seductively.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I just wanted some privacy," I snap, craning my neck to look up at him.

"What would we need privacy for, love?"

I ignore the nickname. "I didn't want you to suffer through the embarrassment of crying in public."

He laughs quietly. "And what could you possibly say that would make me cry?"

"I could tell you, again, that I don't want to go to the ball with you, and that you need to stop asking."

Something flashes across his face, but it's gone before I can catch it, and he's staring down at me with an infuriatingly blank expression. "Is that what you're going do, love?"

I feel my stomach flip as he steps forward, nearly pinning me against the outside wall of the greenhouse. My pulse beats like a hummingbird against my wrists and I can smell him, a mixture of cologne and sweat and… and roses. Surely he hasn't stolen any more from Sprout?

"Why do you smell like roses?"

He looks a little surprised by my question, and avoids answering. "Do you like the smell of roses?"

"I love the smell of roses."

He smiles at me, a bright, genuine smile, and I feel my own lips breaking out into a grin in response.

"Lily," he breathes my name, my first name, and my breath hitches in my throat. There's a vulnerability that I've never seen in him before as he lifts a hand to brush my hair behind my ear. "Please don't say no again."

I look away, down at our feet, and sigh, "But -"

He brushes the pad of his thumb against my cheek, so softly that I almost could have imagined it. "Please."

I force myself to look up at him, trying to ignore the red heat spreading out underneath his hand as he cups my face in his palm. "Why do you want to want to go to the formal with me, Potter?"

"Because I like you, Evans." There's no hesitation, no awkward pause, just a pure vulnerability and heart warming openness as he brings his face down to mine. "Because I like spending time with you. Because you make me laugh, and because no matter how hard I try to ignore the way you make me feel, I can't get you out of my head."

My heart skips a beat before pounding against my ribcage with such force I'm certain he must be able to hear it. "I thought you hated me," I whisper.

"Boys always hate the girl they have a crush on," he answers. "Especially when they're as immature as I am. How else was I going to get your attention, if not by annoying you?"

I laugh in spite of the butterflies ricocheting around my stomach. "You could have tried being nice to me. It might have been a bit more effective."

"I'll keep that in mind." His nose grazes mine, and I can feel how erratic his breathing is as his breath hits my lips. "Do you still hate me?"

"Sometimes," I tell him honestly. He pulls back slightly at that, runs a hand through his hair and looks down at me sadly. I flutter my eyes closed with a sigh. "Black did warn me that you wouldn't just apologise."

"I can apologise, if that's what you want," James says hurriedly.

I roll my eyes. "I shouldn't have to ask you to apologise, you stupid boy."

He rubs the back of his neck. "It would kind of defeat the purpose if I apologised now, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would." I take in the sight of him, standing so close to me, and I realise that today he looks as dishevelled as I feel; his tie is undone, his hair's a wreck, his shoelaces aren't done up, his untucked shirt is visible poking out from under his crinkled sweater and his glasses are dirty. I notice a small scar across his knuckles, as though he's grazed them across something. "Why did you go to save Sirius?" I ask without thinking.

He stares at me as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Because he's my mate. I couldn't just leave him there… The Blacks are bloody fools, going on with all that blood purity nonsense- Padfoot's better than that… I couldn't let him get hurt, and not do anything about it…"

"So the mighty James Potter does have a heart, after all," I say, not unkindly.

"That's what I've been trying to show you for the past week."

"And you're sincere? This isn't a joke?" I twist my fingers together in front of me nervously.

He laughs loudly, startling me. "You really don't trust me, do you? This is definitely not a joke."

There's an extended pause, where we just watch each other carefully. Then I step forward, one of my feet in between his, and tilt my head up to whisper in his ear, "I'll think about it… James."

James's hands gently grasp my hips. "You'll think about coming to the ball with me?" I nod against his cheek, trying to contain my smile. He wraps his arms around me and lifts my feet off the ground, making me gasp. "Thank you."

When he puts me back on the ground, I say, "But, you know, I'm not going to the ball with someone who can't dance. So, just in case I do decide to go with you, you're going to need some practice."

"Dance practice?" he says, and some of the eagerness has disappeared from his voice.

I laugh. "I'll teach you to dance, don't worry."

James tousles his hair. "I know you're a good dancer, Evans, but really, I wouldn't expect too much -"

"Hey," I interrupt him. "I still haven't said a definite yes, so don't work yourself up too much yet."

He looks at me, slightly panicked, but relaxes when I nudge him playfully.

"Do you want to go for a walk before dinner?" he asks innocently.

"Why don't we get started on that dance practice? From the sounds of things you're going to need as much of it as you can get."

He groans, but follows me back out into the open anyway. "Maybe I don't want to go to the ball with you, after all -" I elbow him in the stomach, forcefully, and he gasps, "I was just kidding! Merlin's beard, Evans, how am I meant to dance if you wind me?"

I shrug one shoulder. "You're the one who wouldn't stop asking me to be your date, Potter."

"And aren't I glad about that?" He says, jokingly sarcastic.

I stick my tongue out at him and gesture for him to follow me up to the castle. "Come on, then, lover boy."

* * *

**a.n.** Yay for plot progression! Please let me know what you think. :D


	9. Quinn

**Quinn.**

When I wake up on Saturday morning it's to a strange weight on my legs and a pair of huge blue eyes hovering centimetres above my face. I scream and try to lurch backwards, but all I manage to do is painfully bang my head against the headboard of my bed.

"Ow!" My hand shoots to the crown of my head. "Ow, ow, what is this?"

Quinn, who is sitting perched on my thighs, shakes with silent laughter. "Scream a little bit louder, Lily, and perhaps you can wake the entire school, not just our dorm," she whispers. Despite her words, there's no noise coming from any of our dorm mates, so I'm assuming they're all still asleep.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, pushing at her legs. "Get off me, you freak of nature!"

"I'm interrogating you," she says, as though the fact she's woken me up – on a weekend, might I add - by squashing me half to death is completely normal.

"About what?" I wriggle my torso and try to move up a little bit, but don't succeed. For someone so slim, she's managing to squish me quite effectively. I tilt my head back to gaze at the curtain covering the window beside my bed, and see that it's still the navy blue of pre-dawn outside.

"You and Potter, of course. You can't vanish for an entire night and expect us not to ask questions."

I roll my eyes. "And you couldn't wait until the _sun had risen_?"

"It's not that early, Lily dear," she tuts.

I widen my eyes at her incredulously. "You have woken me up _before the sun is up_. It actually _is _that early, Quinn. Now can you get off? I'm losing feeling in my legs."

"Are you calling me fat?" She puts on a heartbroken expression, and doesn't move.

"Merlin, Quinn, I'm going to kick your skinny butt as soon as you get it off my legs. Seriously, I can not feel my feet." I shove at her with both hands, and she finally slides off to stand beside the bed. I sigh with relief and massage the tops of my thighs.

"Now come on; up and at 'em," she says in an enthusiastic whisper, yanking at my doona.

I groan and throw an arm over my face. "What is _wrong _with you, Quinn?"

"If you hadn't stayed up until all hours cavorting around the school with Potter, you wouldn't be struggling to wake up now," she says knowingly.

I lift my arm to give her a deathly glare before dropping it back over my eyes. "Are you jealous, Quinny?"

"The envy is killing me," she says, utterly deadpan. "Now get your arse out of bed and follow me."

"Are you going to take me somewhere hidden and kill me in cold blood?"

With the sweetest smile imaginable, she tells me, "Only if you don't cooperate."

"Errrggghh," I groan, barely summoning the strength to pull myself out of bed. As I stumble after Quinn out of the dorm and downstairs to the common room I ask, "Was it really just two days ago that I was saying how much I love you?"

"Yep, sure was," she says brightly, throwing herself down into a well worn armchair by the fire. "Regretting those words now, aren't you?"

I collapse into the chair opposite her and rub my tired eyes. "I may be mentally plotting your murder as we speak."

"I thought we'd already established that if anyone's to do any killing here, it'll be me."

I look at her with one bleary eye. She's still in her pyjamas, but as Quinn sleeps in an adorable matching singlet and short set (dark blue, with white polkadots) and braids her hair before bed every night, she still looks incredible. She could almost throw on some robes and head out on the town. I, on the other hand, am wearing orange flannel pyjama pants (with sheep on them, of all things) tucked into a pair of woolly purple bed socks and an ill-fitting old jumper with a chocolate stain on the neckline, and I can't even imagine what my hair is doing. If I went anywhere like this I'd probably be locked up in an asylum. "You do look like the more murderous out of the two of us," I tell her.

She laughs, "I take that as a compliment."

I tuck my feet up underneath my knees and lean my head against the arm of my chair. "What's up, Quinn?"

"I think I should be the one asking _you_ that question," she replies. "What were you doing with Potter last night?"

I consider lying to her a for brief moment; think about saying that I was having an in depth discussion with him about why I can't be his date to the ball. But I know that Quinn would see through it in a second, so I just sigh, "We were dancing."

Her eyebrows shoot up and her jaw drops open. "You said _yes_?"

"No!" I say quickly, shaking my head. She looks at me disbelievingly. "No, I didn't say yes, I didn't say I'd go to the ball with him… I said maybe."

"Hang on, let me get this straight…" She leans forward in her chair. "You told Potter that you _might _go to the ball with him, and then you went and spent Merlin knows how long _dancing_?"

I look at the ground as I mumble, "Seven hours."

Quinn practically jumps out of her seat, yelling, "_Seven bloody hours_? You spent seven whole hours alone with James Potter and you didn't murder him?"

"No," I say, still avoiding looking at her. "I mean, we weren't dancing for that whole time, obviously. We- we talked, a lot, and he took me down to the kitchens when we realised we'd missed dinner-"

Quinn, ever subtle, says knowingly, "You had sex, didn't you?"

"What?" Now it's my turn to jump to the edge of my seat. "No, Merlin, no, I didn't sleep with him!"

Quinn has the nerve to look disappointed. "Seven hours and you didn't even shag?"

"We didn't even kiss." I settle back into my seat, rolling my eyes. "We're not all as horny as you are, you know."

"For your information," she says haughtily, "I have been very well behaved lately."

I raise an eyebrow at her, "Oh, have you really?"

"Better than you, at least," she sticks her tongue out at me. "Now tell me, why did you say maybe?"

I crack my knuckles. "I don't know; he wore me down, I suppose."

"So it's not because, heaven forbid, you actually want to go with him?" Quinn asks innocently.

I blow my fringe out of my eyes so I can look at her directly and say, "I don't know, Quinn. He- He's just being so nice, and maybe I should give him a chance -"

"Sounds like you already have."

"Well I haven't actually said yes, I can still tell him I don't want to go with him -" I trail off as Quinn gives me a look.

"You know that would kill him," she says simply.

I sigh, "I know."

"So you're going to the ball with James Potter. What an exciting turn of events!" She twists so that she's sitting sideways, her legs hanging over one arm of the chair and her head resting on the other.

"I suppose I am," I agree flatly. I watch the steady beat of my pulse at my wrist for a moment before looking up with a start. "Who are you going with?"

Quinn swings her legs back and forth, wiggling her bare toes. "Kyle Jamieson, you know, the Ravenclaw beater-"

"I know who Kyle Jamieson is," I interrupt. "But when did he ask you?"

"Oh, he asked me on Thursday," she says absentmindedly.

I sit bolt upright on the edge of my seat. "And why didn't you tell me?"

She blinks at me once, steadily, before turning her face back to the ceiling. "All that stuff with you and Potter was much more exciting."

"Quinn, I -" I struggle for words. "I'm sorry I've been so self-absorbed, I should have asked -"

"Oh, shut up." She waves a dismissive hand at me. "It's not a big deal. I don't have feelings for him or anything, it's fine."

"He's a bit cute though," I say, smiling.

"And a good snog," she adds, and we break into a fit of giggles.

When I've recovered, I lean back into my chair and say, "I sort of thought you might go with Black, you know."

She turns to face me again. "Sirius Black? Really?" I nod, and she laughs. "Look at you, already planning double dates for you and Potter to go on. Don't you think Lupin and Hannah are good enough?"

"I am not planning dates!" I exclaim. "I just thought that he would have asked you, seeing as he's so keen on you-"

"Oh, no, Black's not going to the ball with anyone," Quinn tells me.

I furrow my brow. "He's not?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. He reckons that if he goes with one girl as a date then he's obliged to shag only her at the end of the ball, but if he doesn't take a partner then he can steal as many girls as he wants from other guys over the course of the night."

I gag. "That's truly disgusting."

"That's Black for you," Quinn says matter-of-factly. "On the bright side, he did tell me that he was aiming to steal me away from Kyle first, which I suppose would almost be a nice sentiment, if it wasn't quite so degrading."

I cover my face as I laugh, "Oh, Merlin."

"What are you two doing up this early?" Quinn and I both look up to see Hannah skipping down the stair case. She's wearing athletic gear; white sneakers, navy shorts and a bright yellow singlet, her hair tied back into a tight ponytail. "And what are you laughing about?"

"Quinn wanted to torture me," I say.

"You deserve it, after ditching us at dinner last night," she says, walking over. "Do you know how antisocial I looked, deliberately keeping the seat beside me empty for someone who never showed up?"

"I'm sorry! We just totally lost track of time," I apologise.

"You and James?" Hannah perches herself on the arm of my chair. "What were you up to?"

"They were dancing," Quinn says. "Isn't that just the most romantic thing?"

Hannah claps her hands together and exclaims happily, "So you finally said yes, then? Oh my gosh, this is _so_ exciting!"

I don't bother to correct her, instead just mumbling, "Mhmm."

"Oh, oh, oh, it'll be so wonderful," Hannah beams, "you and James, Quinn and Sirius, Remus and I -"

"Whoa, hold up," Quinn holds up a hand. "I am not going to the ball with Black, Han. We've been over this."

"Pish posh," Hannah says frivolously, "You might not be _going _with him but everyone knows that the two of you will end up spending the night together."

"If everything goes to plan, Hannah, you've hit the nail on the head."

Hannah is so startled by the new voice she jumps up off the chair arm and lands practically half way across the room, and I spin around so awkwardly that I feel a crack in my neck as I jump onto my knees and peer over the top of the back of the chair. Quinn is the only one who remains composed, still hanging lazily sideways in her armchair. "And that's the only thing here that will be getting nailed," she drawls, glancing sideways at Sirius, who's just appeared at the foot of the stairs.

He gives her a crooked grin. "The fact that I am sneaking out of the girls dorm as we speak suggests otherwise, Quinn dear."

"You're not doing a very good job of sneaking," Hannah says. She seems to have recovered from her shock and is now stretching her legs by pulling her feet up behind her back.

"You can't blame me for expecting the common room to be empty," he says, strolling casually forward. "It's a bit too early to be chatting down here, don't you think?"

"I told you!" I exclaim, giving Quinn an I-told-you-so look.

"Especially for you, Evans; I'm surprised you're conscious at this hour," he tells me, leaning his elbows on the back of my chair. I'm thoroughly annoyed to note that, like Quinn, Sirius looks quite composed despite having just got out of bed. Although his hair is a bit mussed and his shirt slightly crumpled - he appears to have slept (or not slept, as it may be) in his uniform from yesterday - if we had classes today he could just stroll out of here and get on with his day without anyone batting an eyelid.

I scowl, "Oh, shut up. What poor girl have you just corrupted?"

"And there's that red-head temper again," he says, avoiding the question entirely.

I scrunch my nose at him sulkily and whack his arm. "You're horrible."

"I'm marvellous," he counters.

"Have you heard the news?" Quinn asks, seemingly bored with our hostile banter.

Sirius tilts his head to the side inquisitively. "I hear many things. You'd actually be surprised at how much of this school's idle gossip I know."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Do you actually listen to what the girls talk about before you shag them?"

He chuckles appreciatively, "Well I'm not going to hang around for a chat over breakfast the next morning, am I?"

Apparently this is too much for Hannah, because she pulls a scandalous face and says disgustedly, "Alright, on that note, I'm going for my run. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Tootlepip," Sirius waves goodbye cheerily. She grimaces at him as she exits through the portrait hole. He turns back to Quinn, "Anyway, what's this news?"

Quinn grins devilishly. "Lily's finally agreed to go the ball with Potter."

Sirius looks at me, genuinely surprised. "You have?"

I nod, sounding resigned, even though my heart rate picks up at just the thought of James. "Yup."

"Gee, don't sound too enthusiastic there," he says sarcastically, knocking me sideways.

I lose my balance and nearly fall backwards out of the chair. Thankfully I manage to save myself by clutching onto the headrest, but I pull myself back up with a bit too much force and end up slamming my face into the back of the seat. Sirius immediately cracks up with laughter and I hear Quinn gasping for breath in between her giggles behind me. I don't move my face because I don't want them to see how badly I'm blushing, so when I growl, "I will murder you both," it loses some of its ferocity on account of being muffled.

"You're so clumsy you'd probably trip on your way over to us and fall on your own spell," Sirius quips.

That's obviously too funny for Quinn to handle, and I hear a thump as she falls out of her armchair and collapses onto the ground. I turn around to see her clutching at her sides and rolling around hysterically.

"It's too early for this shit," I snap. "You're a horrible friend, you know that?"

She doesn't reply, because she's too busy trying to calm herself down enough to stand. I wait for her to contain herself, and when she finally pulls herself upright she just smiles at me and says, "I'd consider us even then, wouldn't you?"

I snort indignantly, but I know that she's right. I have been selfish this week and if the roles were reversed and she'd been the one to headbutt a chair I would have laughed at her, too. "Whatever."

Sirius laughs and leans against the arm of my chair. "So you're really going to the ball with James?" He asks me.

"I am," I say, and this time I can't quite hide my enthusiasm. I quickly add, "But don't tell him! It- It's not quite official, yet."

He smiles. "I knew you'd come round."

I feel myself smiling back. "And how did you know?"

"Because you two have always been passionate about each other," Sirius tells me, earning a snort from Quinn.

I go to contradict him, but then I realise he's right. "Passionate about hating each other, maybe."

"Passion is passion. Besides, there's not a lot that's better than hate sex." He winks. Quinn immediately loses it, and I throw my head back, laughing so hard I start crying.

I wipe the tears from my eyes as I say, "Black, you are honestly the most disgusting person I've ever met."

He mimes holding an award in one hand, saying in a teary voice, "I'd like to thank all the little people who made winning this award possible -" He breaks off when he sees that we're about to start crying again, and just grins at us.

"So do you often have sleepovers in the girl's dorm?" Quinn asks once she can breathe again, sounding genuinely curious.

"It's an occasional habit," he says neutrally.

I lean towards him. "Who's bed were you in last night?"

"I would tell you," he says, leaning down towards me so I can see a glint in his eyes, "except you're bloody hopeless at keeping secrets."

Quinn stands up with a chuckle. "Alright, well, I think I've tortured Lily enough for now." She stretches her arms above her head and yawns. "I'm going to go laze about in bed for an hour or two, I think."

I gape at her, dumbfounded. "You're going back to bed? You woke me up before dawn and now you're just going to go back to sleep?"

She shrugs. "Yeah. Pretty much." Just as I feel my expression changing from annoyed to murderous, she laughs and says, "No, I'm just going to the loo. I just couldn't resist seeing your face."

"You're a bitch," I grumble.

"I'll be right back, wait here for me," she instructs, heading towards the bathroom.

When she's out of earshot I pout at Sirius. "Who were you with last night?" He shakes his head, smirking. I plead, "I promise, I am not terrible at keeping secrets; I've kept plenty of them! I haven't told anyone about -" I catch myself just before I reveal that Remus told me about how Sirius really got his scar. Perhaps I _am _terrible at keeping secrets.

Sirius's hand goes straight to his forehead, unconsciously. There's an awkward pause where neither of us speaks, and then he tells me, "He has a terrible habit, our friend Remus, of feeling guilty when he breaks a promise. Something to do with having a conscience or something like that? I wouldn't know." He gives me a meaningful look, and I realise that Remus's told him I know.

"What a horrible infliction, a conscience," I say jokingly. One side of Sirius's mouth quirks up, and I find myself reaching out to rest a hand on his knee. "I really am sorry, about- about the whole thing."

He shrugs, but doesn't move my hand. "Why are you apologising? It's not your fault."

I blink. "Well, it's not, but -"

"I need a smoke," He says suddenly, interrupting me.

I realise that Quinn's returning from the bathroom and shift back, drawing my hand off his knee. "Alright?" I say, but it comes out sounding more like a question.

Quinn is in the process of un-braiding her hair when she re-joins us. "What's this?"

"I'm going for a smoke. Care to join?" Sirius asks casually, picking at a loose thread on the arm of my chair.

Quinn finishes doing her hair before replying, "Yeah, sure. Might as well."

"Quinn, you're not smoking are you?" I admonish.

"Only when I'm drunk," she answers, and sadly she's telling the truth. "So you don't have to worry about it this morning."

Sirius stands up and I notice that he's got his tie tucked into the pocket of his trousers. "Lovely to see you, Evans, and wonderful to hear you've finally realised what a good bloke James is. Bravo." He even applauds, just for good measure.

I wave lazily. "Goodbye, Black."

Quinn smiles at me as they leave the room, "Enjoy the morning."

"I'm going right back to bed!" I call out after her, and I hear the both of them laughing as the door swings shut behind them.

* * *

**a.n. **Thank you for the REVIEWS, favourites and alerts! It's lovely to see people are enjoying the story.  
Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think of the writing/story/characters/relationship/anything really.  
Hope you're all having a marvellous day!


	10. Dance Practice

**Dance Practice.**

James is waiting for me in the disused classroom when I get there just after ten thirty, the dark navy of his trousers and the red of his jacket contrasting against the stone wall he's leaning against. He looks up when I shut the door behind me, and I catch the nerves behind his dazzling smile, but don't say anything as I make may way over to him. As last night proved, he is genuinely nervous about the dancing aspect of the ball, and I don't want to antagonise him just when we're seeming to get along.

"You're early," I say with a smile.

"You're late," he corrects, but it doesn't really sound like he minds.

"Quinn woke me up before dawn this morning, can you believe that?" I wrinkle my nose in distaste. "I swear she just likes to test our friendship sometimes. I was so exhausted I had to go back to bed and ended up sleeping in, sorry."

James looks genuinely appalled. "I think I'd kill my mates if they woke me up that early."

I shake my head. "Oh, trust me, I came close. Oh, that reminds me – We ran into Sirius. Or rather, he ran into us; He was sneaking out of the girl's dorm." James laughs at that, and I raise an eyebrow. "Does he do that often, sleep in girls' beds?"

James shrugs a shoulder. "Sometimes. Not exceedingly often, but every now and again, yeah."

"Don't you worry about what trouble he'll get in if he's caught?"

"Padfoot's a big boy, he can take care of himself. Besides, I try not to dwell on the sex lives of my mates."

I gag at that. "Ew. Alright, I see your point."

He steps away from the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets self consciously. "So, we should probably practice, huh? Only one more day to go…"

"Yes!" I nod, rolling forward onto the balls of my feet and clapping my hands together in front of me. "Yes, we should. I've got the music." I dash over to the gramophone in the corner of the room and fumble through my bag for the record I brought with me. Than Merlin for undetectable extension charms. Once I've got it correctly placed, I lower the needle and a song with an easy waltz beat starts playing.

When I turn around I see that James has stepped into the centre of the room, but his hands are still in his pockets. I've never seen him nervous about anything besides Quidditch before, not in my entire life. Seeing him get self conscious, especially in front of me, makes my stomach flip. I try to treat this like a platonic dance lesson, ignoring the anticipation I can feel tingling at the tips of my fingers to touch him, and slide my jacket of my shoulders. I can see James's eyes lingering on my exposed collarbones, though, and suddenly my mouth feels dry.

I carefully slip my feet into the pair of heels I brought with me, kneeling down to clasp the buckles. I can feel James' eyes on the back of my neck, and I try to stop my fingers from shaking. I smooth my hands over the material of my baby blue dress as I straighten up, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath before turning around.

"Right," I say, trying to project as much confidence into my voice as possible as I stride over to him. "So, you need to put your right hand on my waist and hold mine in your left, remember?"

I take his right hand and place it on my waist, just above my hip. I watch his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, and try to smile encouragingly as I take his hand and lift our arms, our palms pressed together. He gives me a small smile in return, and I look down at our feet to disguise the blush flooding across my cheeks.

"So now it's just steps in a square, basically. You put this foot back -" I tap my toes against the tip of his shoe, "and I put mine forward. And then you do it with the other one, and then we step side ways. Like so." I push him gently backwards, and he stumbles the wrong foot back first, then over corrects and steps too far back with the other. I try not to laugh, and tug him sideways. "So, that's half of it done. Now you step forwards and I step back; so it's just the opposite." I pull him towards me now, stepping lightly back on the balls of my feet. He trods on my left foot, and I yelp.

"Sorry!" He exclaims quickly, moving to let go of my hand.

"It's okay," I say reassuringly, looking into his eyes and keeping my fingers curled around the back of his palm. "You can step on my feet now, just not when everyone's watching."

James laughs at that, and the next time he steps on my foot he apologises profusely, but doesn't try to let go of my hand.

"Am I doing okay?" he asks nervously.

I chuckle and say honestly, "You'd be doing great if you'd stop waiting for me to lead you. _You _lead _me._"

"Oh," he says, and I feel the tension in his muscles shift as he takes control of the dance.

Only a few repetitions later he seems to be getting the hang of it, but his eyes are still glued to his feet.

"Try looking at me instead of the ground," I suggest. "Trust your feet. They'll guide you just as well as any broomstick."

He quickly lifts his head, but I catch his eyes still darting downwards occasionally. I clear my throat pointedly and he makes a self-conscious effort to meet my gaze.

"That, uh, that dress looks really good on you," he says, and it's the first time he's ever given me a compliment that sounded sweet and nervous and utterly unrehearsed.

I feel myself blushing slightly, but if holding a conversation will help him keep his eyes off the floor then I'm going to push through any nerves of my own. "Do you think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, you look nice in anything, but you look really nice in this… Y-you, you should wear it!" He stutters awkwardly.

I widen my eyes at him, surprised by how vulnerable the previously infallible James Potter seems right now. "I _am _wearing it."

"Oh, oh yes," he says quickly, "I was just, um, trying to give you a - a…" He trails off, swallowing thickly.

"Compliment?" I offer.

He nods, "Yeah."

He's finally got the pattern down, and we're moving in an easy waltz step now, our eyes locked onto each other. The music continues playing, and he reaches out to spin me around. My dress swirls around my knees and I laugh, which makes him smile. We fall back into the traditional step for a few beats, and then he spins me again, and suddenly it's like he's got his confidence back. He twirls me out and turns to the side, guiding me as I twirl back in so that my back is to him. He lifts me off the ground, his lips brushing the back of my neck, as he spins in a circle before placing me back down again. Momentum means than we twirl out in opposite directions, but his left hand never stops touching my right, and then we spin back to our original position.

The weight of his hand on the dip of my spine is both reassuring and terrifying, and when I hear myself speak it sounds as though my voice is coming from somewhere far away.

"I'm feeling a little… dizzy."

James's voice is equally low when he replies, "Kind of… lightheaded?"

"Yeah."

"Me too," he agrees. "Probably from all the spinning." We slowly stop moving, but neither of us remove our hands. We stand, frozen in an intimate waltz position, everything except for each other entirely forgotten. He says softly, "Maybe we should stop."

I breathe a reply, "We _have _stopped."

"Lily, I -" he pauses.

I prompt him, "Yes?"

He doesn't continue speaking, instead leaning down and tilting his head towards mine. My eyelids drift shut, and he's so close I can feel his exhale of breath hit my lips… And I can smell his cologne and roses, roses because he knows how much I love the smell of them, roses like the ones he gave me a week ago –

A week ago. All this only started a week ago.

The music stops playing and I pull back suddenly. James still has his eyes closed, and I look down as I carefully step out of his arms.

"You're doing fine," I say awkwardly, continuing to distance myself from him.

He blinks at me, confusion etched into the lines of his face, and goes to reach out for me. "Lily -" he starts to say something, but I don't want to hear it.

I cut him off, mumbling, "I have to go. You're doing really well though." I practically run for the door, but I hesitate with my hand on the doorknob. I glance back over my shoulder and tell him, "I'll see you tomorrow."

I don't look back to see his expression as I run out of the room and away from my feelings.

* * *

**a.n. **I owe you guys the biggest apology in the world. There's really no excuse except for I have really poor time management and terrible writer's block. But here you go, a nice fluffy chapter packed with one giant Anastasia reference.


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